


You can sin or spend the night all alone

by CoinToYourWitcher



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, All song fics all the time, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anyone seen The Keepers?, Ben is 27, Ben's past is crazy, Catholic Guilt, Catholic School, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Grooming, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Loss of Virginity, Lots of Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Dynamics, Protective Kylo Ren, Rey is 16, Reylo - Freeform, Sacrilege, Skinny Dipping, So many bad guys, Teacher Ben Solo, Underage Drinking, and atheism, and cussing, bc it be like that, dark!fic, oh boy, pleated skirts, rockstar kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25453909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoinToYourWitcher/pseuds/CoinToYourWitcher
Summary: Ben is a teacher at a Catholic school. But also secretly the lead singer of a sacreligious metal band.Rey is his student who discovers his dark side and the reader begins to understand his troubled high school past and what has made him this way, while at the same time history might be repeating itself for Rey.Kikyorocks cred for the prompt!The Spotify Playlist
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 316
Kudos: 252





	1. Get on your knees and bow down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kikyorocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikyorocks/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Get on your knees and bow down  
>  I come alive, I'll survive, take on anything  
> So paint a target on my back, let 'em come for me  
> I don't fall, don't quit, don't ever sleep  
> Cause I'm on another level that you'll never reach  
> If you seek forgiveness  
> You'll get nothing  
> You'll get nothing from me**
> 
> Bow Down by I Prevail

[ ](https://ibb.co/gWKxRN9)

Ben’s throat was dry as fuck, but it looked weak to drink water in the middle of a set. He knew his voice would be hoarse tomorrow for the first day of school and he’d have to tell the kids he had allergies. 

The stage lights were burning into his retinas. It would be a miracle if they could make it the whole show without causing a strobe seizure to some unsuspecting fan. He was keeping an eye on the crowd through the veil of his sweaty hair, his disguise. Stupid to think he needed to put on such a front with his clothes and attitude and guyliner. No one from Seattle Sacred Heart would ever come to a Priest Killer concert. Their whole vibe was sacrilege, their backdrop a parody of stained glass windows.

Several of the kids in the front looked starry-eyed high, probably Ecstasy and alcohol. They weren’t old enough to be here. Not even close. He was keeping an eye on them too, only an arm’s length from where the shithead miscreants in camo shorts and wife beaters were moshing too hard into the girls. Bad pit etiquette. 

Women needed to chase the same pain, the rough bliss of being crushed, the satisfaction of staying on your feet and throwing a shoulder into a stranger twice your build. But the size ratio was exaggerated tonight. Some bouncer was letting in high schoolers and he was going to rip the venue a new one when they were done.

Ben leaned closer to the mic, higher than his mouth so his guttural screams could rise like heat, laying into the chords of his guitar, black with custom red strings, his best friend in the world. He paid close attention to hit the fermatas, a perfect moment of silence every once in a while--like pauses between being beaten over the head with a bat. 

A black, lacy bra flew on stage and he kicked it off, not wanting to trip on it. Such a weird compliment, but he lived for this. This vile mob of sinners and masterbators screaming their fake demon names, mouths moving in tandem to his lyrics, drowned out by Cardo on the bass. 

He took a much needed breath, his head spinning, letting Ushar take over the softer vocals. 

God, those teenagers looked out of it. Ben didn’t do drugs. Anymore. He didn’t need speed or coke to rage his fucking guts out. This was his balance. He was equal parts night and day. By day he used his brain, by night: hands, dick, mouth. There was no other way to function.

One of the girls on the rail caught his eye. Not because she was pretty--even though she was--but because her eyes had been closed for at least ten minutes and some guy from the pit had just slid up to grope her. Some burly, half-bald fuck in his 40’s. 

Ben pointed to her, and security caught on, pulling her over the rail to the gap between the stage and the crowd and carrying her like a limp bride backstage. 

Fuck, if he wasn’t on probation, he’d crack that dick over the skull with his guitar. He channeled his frustration into the last three songs--water, finally--then staggered back on for the encore, the humidity from human bodies wilting as they finished. He flicked his pick at the teenagers who survived the rail and Vicrul and Trudgen tossed their splintery drumsticks with casual arrogance. 

Ap'lek and Kuruk set down their back up bass and guitar, pulling up each and every handwritten set list and handing them to the fans, even though it meant they had a souvenir now and wouldn’t buy merch. Because they delivered it to the women they’d picked out during the show, and it increased their chances of getting laid later, if they stuck around in the alley.

His shoulder ached as he pulled the strap over his head, setting his guitar on the stand to be wiped off and stowed by one of the band’s family-member-roadies that tagged along helpfully to their local gigs. 

Ben polished off his Hydroflask, dumping the last inch straight onto his scalp. Backstage was a shithole of empty beer bottles and torn couches from the 90’s, but he had a microscopic changing room all to himself. He had to turn back into Clark Kent and wait out the fans, increasingly longer stints these days. Sometimes two hours.

He pulled his shirt off when he got inside the cool room, catching a whiff of his own perspiration, which he wiped on the ratty shirt, closing the door behind him with a kick. It slammed louder than he meant to. He wasn’t mad, he just hated this part. Coming down from the adrenaline, the thrill of the stage, like a self-induced bipolar episode. 

Turning on the sink, he refilled his Hydro with lukewarm, metallic-tasting tap water, spitting a little by accident when he realized the teen from the crowd had been tossed on the love seat, an unopened bottle of water on the floor next to her.

_Well done, security._

He tacked on another complaint to accost management with later. 

Ben pulled her into a sitting position, gently by her shoulders, cracking open the water bottle and raising it to her lips. She drank, her eyes still closed and it was strange, straddling her legs on the couch and patiently waiting for her to finish the contents. He’d probably have to drive her home too, not trusting the staff at this point.

When she was done, he laid her back down and hunted around for his bag to throw a shirt on, not wanting to freak her out. He leaned on the vanity, checking the social media response to the performance, everyone mentioning the girl that passed out and the bra, but there were no pictures of her, fortunately.

“Thanks for the water,” she croaked, sitting up as if she weighed 300 lbs, instead of--probably--100.

Ben refilled her water and handed it to her, but she just sat with it sandwiched between her long legs. So much skin, with her short shorts. He reached and her eyes widened, but he was just going to help hold it, insisting she keep drinking.

“You’re dehydrated,” Ben explained, tipping it, trying to ignore what it made him think of when her hazel eyes looked up at him. She was probably only 15 or 16.

She caught the glimmer of his thoughts, her whole demeanor changing, arching her back and licking her pale lips, but that was the E, making her horny. 

“I’ll head out here around 1 am if you want a ride home,” Ben said, twisting the cap back on her water and setting it by her leg. He did _not_ mean for his thumb to touch her leg, but it grazed, and he did a slow blink. 

_Yeah. He was horny as well_.

“Everyone at school loves you,” she said, standing up on wobbly legs, one of her bare heels sticking out the back of her Converse knock-offs. He noticed she didn’t say _she_ loved him, playing her little teenage hard-to-get.

“Yeah? You don’t like the band?” Ben asked, trying to determine her level of sobriety.

She stretched seductively towards the mirror, wiping at the mascara that had smeared under her eyes. “I think there are probably certain notes my ears will never hear again.”

That’s true, hearing loss was an actual side effect of metal. Ben nodded, trying not to look where the bottom of her ass cheeks peeked out of her jean shorts. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She turned, satisfied that she wasn’t unattractive anymore, catching his sluggish reaction. His eyes fell to the fraying carpet, pieced together with duct tape.

“I’m Rey,” she smirked, looking awfully proud of herself.

“Kylo,” Ben lied. 

“I know,” she laughed.

He didn’t offer a hand. She was a high schooler, definitely. They didn’t shake hands yet. “How did you get in?”

Her smile widened. “The roof.” She swung her hip to the side, letting it hit the vanity counter and crossing her other leg in front. She knew her best attributes. She had no tits to speak of.

“Are your friends waiting?” He asked, wondering at his own motives behind that one. He could feel himself going dark.

“They can wait,” she said, quietly. 

_Fuck. Oh, I am so fucked._

He took a deep breath, trying quickly to invent a reason she needed to leave, but then _she slid to her knees_ and reached for his belt. He swatted her hand away, before rubbing his face, _deciding_. 

“I’m legal. The age of consent in Washington is 16,” she said, holding onto his knees to steady herself. He could see down her shirt. She _did_ have tits.

“I’m 27,” Ben informed her, slightly abashed that he was still in her grip when he had two feet behind him with which to back up. He’d never been with someone so young, even when he was her age. It felt _wrong_. But she was looking up at him, craning her neck and his heathen mind was swimming with ways to defile her body. On the floor or the vanity or the couch.

She reached for his belt again, reading him like a book, and he let her, biting back a curse word, ashamed at his own weakness. He was a fucking teacher and his morals were so easily discarded for a smatter of freckles and a pair of smooth legs.

“You look sooo guilty,” she teased, rubbing his black-jeaned crotch with her right hand, taking things slow. 

"I am a man more sinned against than sinning," Ben said, the first thing that came to his mind. _Fucking Shakespeare? Really, Ben?_

Unzipping his jeans, tight and needy as hell, she shook her head, almost floppy with whatever she was on, “We’ll see.”

Ben stretched his arm behind him, his feet still planted firmly in front of her, locking the door, the click the sound of no return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s Kurt Cobain stopping a sexual assault from on stage:
> 
> https://vm.tiktok.com/JYHaKaM/
> 
> I literally found this less than a week after writing this scene.


	2. I’ve been dreaming since I was sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Now that I'm in  
>  How do I get out  
> Now that I'm in  
> Now that I'm in  
> I've been dreaming since I was sixteen  
> I've been lying to be on your team**
> 
> Sixteen - Oceans1985 Remix by Don, Oceans1985

Rey tried not to make a pained face, but she was _really,_ _really_ uncomfortable. She had to hide it though because students were walking by the empty classroom and everyone knew who she was. Her lunch was spent in the cold bathroom, staring at the metal walls where the marker and pen graffiti was freshly painted away. She had struggled to pee for fifteen minutes and only managed a teaspoon of burning urine at the beginning.

It was either the sex or the drugs. Or God, punishing her. But she was pretty sure God wasn’t real. Most of the kids thought it was all bullshit but would _never_ tell their parents that.

It was the first day of school and she was NOT going to start the year by confessing to Father Luke that she had done a life’s worth of sinning in one night. She had told him that morning that she had tried cigarettes and had impure thoughts over the summer. Just enough to placate.

She was early to her English class, but as everyone filed in wearing their crisp, new uniforms, she was debating making a run for it, to hide in the bathroom the rest of the day where she could cry in privacy with her panties around her ankles. 

Her head was splitting and she was _sore_ down there. Kylo was big. Way too big for her first time. Mistakes were made.

At least he’d worn a condom.

She had watched enough porn to know what guys seemed to like, but it was very different in real life. She didn’t know that frantic tapping on her head meant he was going to come down her throat or what to do with it when it was in her mouth. She swallowed half and spit half, feeling like an idiot. An idiot with a sore jaw and _sopping_ wet panties, because DAMN did having a man in her mouth get her going. Not wet like normal, but some magic, slippery slick, her body’s own way of encouraging her to _keep going_. 

She didn’t want Poe calling her ‘Virgin Mary’ forever. Although, she suspected the reason he teased her was likely to goad her into letting him cure her. Speaking of the devil, he was in this class. Poe’s eyes landed on her and he grinned, racing forward, sliding into the two-person desk that looked like it belonged in a British boarding school.

“Hey, glad you made it home. You didn’t answer any of our texts and we were really worried after the big guys carried you off.”

Rey vaguely remembered seeing a million messages this morning on the bus, but reading them made her nauseated. She had to dry heave a glob of spit into her new book bag. 

“I just went straight home,” she invented.

Poe was whispering about their illicit concert break in and first time drug use, but Rey was regretting all of it. Even the pleasurable part. When Kylo swept his hand between her legs and made her come with just two fingers. When he—a grown man—unraveled on top of her. That place was NOT clean and he’d used his hand. That’s probably why the burning. Maybe she could ask the teacher if she could go home.

Squeezing her legs tight together, Rey ignored Poe, pretended to be interested in the teacher as he came in, tall, only five inches from hitting his head in the doorway, setting a box of skinny books on the empty desk at the front. No one wanted to sit at the very front. He pushed his thick-framed glasses up his nose and fumbled with a clipboard. He started calling roll, stopping only to check pronunciations and scribble in preferred first names. He paused before her name.

“Rey... _Palpatine_?”

Everyone turned to look at her. 

_Yeah, yeah, my grandfather is the archbishop, really cool._ They already knew this, she had class with everyone for years.

“Here,” she responded, scooting along the bench to the left so he could see her around the football player, DJ, who had annoyingly plopped in front of her—instead of the back row where large people belonged.

Mr. Solo—according to the blackboard— _stared_ at her. For like a full three seconds. She was worried she was in trouble. That maybe someone had taken pictures at Priest Killer and posted them—even though they had all agreed not to—and the school had found out. Or maybe no one had told him a Palpatine was going to be in his class, but with the way gossip spread at this school, she doubted that one.

To her relief, he looked back at his list and continued through the other names, his gravelly voice sounding crazy familiar. Maybe he had subbed for one of her classes before and she had forgotten. But he was...attractive...and she felt like she’d remember. In fact, she kind of remembered older girls from last year talking about Mr. Solo being a hot nerd teacher.

She liked the way he wore a dark sweater over his denim button-up. He looked like a model for The Gap. Wholesome. Smart. If someone had drawn a cartoon of a man and he’d come to life, that was Mr. Solo, shaped like a slightly bow-legged Superman with a long face. His movements were measured, slow, like he knew his body was too big for a classroom.

He started talking about the curriculum. About how Shakespeare was meant to be performed, not read, talking about those skinny books of plays in his box. 

_Grrrr_...so hard to focus with the urge to pee. Everything would have been okay if Kylo hadn’t used his hand. She was never going to see him again. If she did anything with Poe, the whole school would find out about it. From Poe.

Kylo wouldn’t brag, he probably did that all the time. He was the embodiment of sex, with his dark eyes and broad shoulders and big hands. She felt like she was looking at boys differently now, judging the possibility of sex where she hadn’t before. Because she wanted more. Mr. Solo had big hands, huge, waving his tiny poetry books. 

Rey slipped into a daydream, half Kylo, half Mr. Solo.

Kylo had hissed when he felt how wet she was for him, trembling on the floor of his dim changing room with need. Mr. Solo could touch her like that, on this linoleum floor with the smell of graphite pencil shavings. He’d kiss her neck and talk in her ear while she tensed and breathed and waited for his hand to find the right rhythm, back and forth and into her, stretching, ow.

“You okay?” Poe whispered behind the football player.

_No, I need to go to the bathroom._

“Yeah,” she lied.

“Do you want to be my partner?” He asked, even quieter. 

“Sure,” she cringed, glad someone was paying attention. She hadn’t heard Mr. Solo talk about pairing them up.

People were walking to the front, getting books. She followed Poe and he got Macbeth but she’d read that already, grabbing King Lear.

“You’re supposed to get the same one as me,” Poe laughed, handing her a Macbeth. Rey looked at King Lear, wondering if she should even bother trying to ask if they could decide together. Poe never cared what she thought, like when she said she just wanted to drink and not do Molly. 

“Keep it,” Mr. Solo said, watching her from where he was leaning on his desk. “I’ve got more than enough.”

It was true, the class was only fifteen kids. She gave him a smile, glad he was going to be a nice teacher, then decided maybe he’d be lenient. Taking two steps closer, she asked, almost begging, “Can I go to the nurse?” 

His eyebrows knitted, not with distrust like most teachers, but with worry. “Of course, take the pass,” he said, pointing.

Rey grabbed it, a touch-worn block of wood with HALL PASS burned into one side, sitting on the dusty rim of the chalkboard. She made for the door with her two Shakespeare books and Mr. Solo caught up with her in the hall, offering up her book bag that he’d grabbed from her desk.

“Thanks,” Rey blushed, even though she wasn’t planning to be gone the entire hour.

“You want me to grab someone to walk you there?” He asked. 

She must look peaked. He probably thought she was going to pass out. No, she did NOT want him to ask for a volunteer—inevitably Poe—and alert the class to curiosity.

“Psh no, I’ve just...felt all morning like I need to pee,” she admitted. Mr. Solo was sort of young and it felt more like she was confiding in one of her classmates. He had boyish eyes. Still, she vaguely wished she hadn’t shared. In this strict, repressive environment. To a member of the staff.

He looked relieved, “Yeah, go get some cranberry pills.”

Rey didn’t know what he was talking about so she just said, “okay,” obediently and continued on down the Lysol-smelling hall, turning to see if he was still there when she reached the staircase. He was, standing there with his hands in his pockets, probably just keeping an eye on her. 

She replayed the whole interaction as she skimmed the stairs and read the signs on the doors, looking for the nurse. Mr. Solo was definitely cool. And her lower body was informing her that she had her Brand New Junior Year Crush. The burning even felt good for a second, like a twinge of attention from Kylo’s rough hand—that she would _never_ stop dreaming about. She briefly wondered if all men tasted the same, before turning the knob of the door marked ‘Nurse Leia’.


	3. I just needed you to know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I am heaven sent  
>  Don't you dare forget  
> I am all you've ever wanted  
> What all the other boys all promised  
> I’m sorry I told  
> I just needed you to know**
> 
> Okay, I Believe You, but My Tommy Gun Don’t by Sadsongs (Brand New cover)

It was Friday and Rey still had no clue who he was. 

That fact should have made Ben relax, because his career and hidden identity depended on her not knowing. But there was still that egotistical, prodding part of him that wanted her to remember, to dig into her foggy, drug-infused memory and recall them fucking each other’s brains out on the floor of his changing room. To delight in the predicament they were in, the weirdness of it. His whole life was secrets, he’d love to share in _one_.

Didn’t she remember his face or his height? His ears or anything? His voice was barely hanging in there that night, so even that she couldn’t identify. He was tired of reading her face for recognition every time he looked at her.

Poe pushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear and the little devil on Ben’s shoulder laughed with glee. Because he had just made up his mind to tell her. Because that scrawny, little shit Poe was not seducing her on Ben’s watch. And because if he thought she was cute in her blue jean shorts and crop top, it was nothing compared to seeing her in a pleated skirt and knee socks, crossing her legs and writing _his_ lyrics all over her notebook. 

He was practically drooling over her, abusing his dick the second he got home every day, becoming obsessed with the details of her. The way she wore her hair down in waves, or up in a bun—later in the week, when his aggressive suck-marks had faded from her neck. The way when she said ‘Mr. Solo’ with a practiced coolness he could tell. She wanted _him_ too. Not Kylo, Mr. Solo. 

_Well, surprise, you’ve had me. And I can NOT stop thinking about it._

_\-------------------_

Ben groaned, trying desperately not to thrust into Rey’s mouth as she gagged, choking and spitting a little on what was already a filthy carpet. Ben probably should have pulled out when he was close. But fuck, he just wanted to see. This. Her wiping his come off her lips, red-faced and squirming, not knowing how to _just ask_.

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” he said quickly, kneeling down and ripping her shorts down a foot to the ground, hissing and feeling the hotwetfuckingslick of her pussy, dripping into his palm. He massaged her up and down, letting her tuck her head into his shoulder. 

She rocked her hips, moving on his hand, and he was already hard again, his dick dying to be _in something_. He had to angle himself to lend his shoulder and use his hand without jabbing her with it. 

The world’s most erotic fucking sob escaped her when he drove a finger into her, echoing his own thoughts, praying she’d let him in there if he was good. If he got her off and said just the right thing and used a condom. _Amazing she could be so tight, and not a virgin,_ he thought, working in a second finger so he could palm her clit while rubbing her G-spot.

“OH,” she gasped, squeezing his shoulders, probably from pain, because _fuck she was tight as a motherfucker._

“This okay?” he asked, slowing down, but not stopping. He _had_ to get her ready. Every molecule in his body was screaming to Fucking. Plow. Her. He had zero energy when he walked in that door and now he was getting a workout, trying to pace himself too, because she was taking forever and that arm had just played a full hour set.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, rocking again. She started shaking and he grinned, knowing she was close. Maybe she liked his voice.

“Are you going to fucking come for me, Rey?” he huffed in her ear, lifting her off the ground by her cunt for a second. She squeezed his arms harder, her eyes squinting closed, and he kept talking like that, “You’re so close, just fucking let go. Stop holding on. Come on my fucking fingers for me baby and I’ll give you something even better.” 

She cried out, her pussy walls cinching on his fingers and come _dripping_ down her thighs ten seconds later. Like, incredible how much a teenager fucking comes. 

“That’s my dirty fucking teenage slut. Are you sure you’re 16?” He pushed her hair out of her eyes so he could see if she was lying, accidentally leaving a come trail across her forehead.

“Yes,” she said, gripping his shirt in her fists.

He practically growled, his voice going, husky and perverse, “Come here, lay down. Tell me if you want me to stop. I won’t be mad, baby, I just want to feel you once.” 

He laid her back, pulling her shorts all the way off, then tore the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolled it down as far as it would go, getting a quick nod of approval, before sliding his tip in, groaning and pushing, gaining one fucking inch at a time, stopping when he was up to the hilt and talking in her ear the way she liked. “Still glad you’re my little slut?” 

_Please don’t say no._

She felt so good, tight as a fist around the base of his cock, the anticipation of impending friction more than his resolve could bear and he was throbbing inside her now.

“Yes,” she pleaded, and he pulled out, curving harshly back into her, muffling her sob with his hand because there were people in the hall, no doubt the security guys who had dumped her in there like she was nothing.

“Nod if you like it,” he said, his voice crackling in and out, just to be sure, her head nodding. 

Then he let go, pursuing whatever pace his body needed. He sucked and lapped at all the bare, salty flesh exposed above her neckline, ripping her hair to the side so he could access her neck and make his mark, one for every scream into his hand, her hips lifting into his, reassuring him that they were _the right kind of screams._

It wasn’t until he dropped her off that he gave her a kiss, soft and warm, like a thank you. Or an apology. Because he’d just fucked her three ways to Sunday without a single fucking kiss.

\---------------------------------

Oh boy. If he’d known he was taking her to _Palpatine’s_ house, he would have kept on driving. That was another reason to keep his mouth shut. 

But he had such a good idea, a way to tell her who he was, that he couldn’t _not do it_ now.

The kids were broken up into pairs around the shady outdoor picnic tables, practicing the scenes they were going to act out next week. The table next to Rey’s was two girls reciting King Lear, so he sat down on the table with his feet on the bench and projected so the nearby tables would watch.

“Nice, Rose, but feel it. By the time we get to this verse, the king has no power and hardly any friends to speak of. He’s literally on a heath in the middle of a thunderstorm, yelling at the sky: “Blow winds and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!” It’s pretty bad. He doesn’t even want to go inside where it’s warm and cozy. He’d rather be pissed, cold, and alone. Like this,” he said, clearing his throat. He saw Rey was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Hast practiced on man's life: close pent-up guilts, rive your concealing continents, and cry these dreadful summoners grace,” he read darkly from the book, then he tilted his head to Rey, waiting for her eyes to look up and hold his, “I am a man more sinned against than sinning.”

  
  
And _that_ she remembered.


	4. I'm borderline good and I'm borderline bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Gents of the empire  
>  Strangle my desire  
> Pull the plug sire  
> And I'll spit fire  
> I'm borderline happy and I'm borderline sad  
> I'm borderline good and I'm borderline bad**
> 
> Borderline - Vanic Remix by Tove Styrk, Vanic

Reys ears started ringing, maybe just a memory of the concert, or lack of air to her brain.

Come on her tongue.

Hips snapping.

Tendons to the point of tearing.

That raw, stinging feeling.

Thin, gritty carpet on her back and elbows.

Toes curling, tight for space in her shoes.

Watching him collapse and pull off the condom, his own spend dripping down his shaft.

Reality slapped like an open palm and Poe was trying to read Macbeth _with feeling_ and Mr. Solo was prowling their picnic table, pretending to appraise Poe who was half-reading, half-reciting. 

He must not be a real Christian if he wrote lyrics like that, comparing blowjobs to prayer and calling himself God all the time. It was hard to believe those corrupt thoughts came from _Mr. Solo's_ head. He leaned over Poe’s reading, one fist on the table, his eyes alight with contained excitement, his lips ticking up at the edges.

How. Could. She. Not. Recognize. Him.

His long, black hair was perfectly quaffed now and he ran a hand through it, still talking to her with his eyes.

_Hello, my little fucking teenage slut._

Rey couldn’t reconcile the two people. Mr. Solo was so measured and put together. Kylo was a sexy mess.

But she had done the same, played a role that night. The bad girl who wasn’t a virgin, played it well enough to fool him and get what she wanted. Better acting than Poe now.

She licked her dry lips and Mr. Solo’s eyes flicked down to her mouth and she couldn’t help but smile.

He stood back up straight, biting his grin away with his top teeth, Kylo fighting to come out and play--and oh fuck she was _wet_. 

What was his plan? She still had another class after this. Did he have a class to teach? Probably. 

He walked between the tables, mingling with the students, his hands in his pockets, halfway, too big for his pockets and it made her _clench_ down there. Every time his muscled body twisted to look back at her, her stomach did a flip and blood rushed to her cheeks and clit. Like a flick.

Secrets were almost as good as sex. Intimate. Naughty. 

He was working his way back, writing something on a slip of paper. It was Rey’s turn to read from Macbeth. She found the perfect line and waited until he was within earshot. She wanted him to know she was ready for whatever he was biting back.

“Stars hide your fires. Let not light see my dark and deep desires.”

Mr. Solo sat next to her on the bench, across from Poe, as if to listen. She tried to read aloud as if unperturbed, but she could see his hand moving towards her, Poe unaware, following along studiously with Mr. Solo’s presence.

His hand slid over her thigh and her voice didn’t tremble in the slightest, even when he pressed on her aching clit through her skirt, raking his nails over her, bunching up the fabric and she wanted to scream. Her eyelids fluttered but she read on, showing him she could keep quiet. Even while her pulse thumped in her panties.

Poe looked up at Mr. Solo, checking to see if he thought they were going to make the grade. Mr. Solo’s hand retreated and reached into his pocket, pulling out that slip of paper and stuffing it under her left ass cheek, before stalking off and doing a good job of ignoring her.

Five minutes later, when class ended, she stole a glance at the slip of paper. Seven numbers that would save her life. 

Walking calmly back into the school with the others, Rey broke into a jog through the busy halls, pushing into the empty chapel. She bee-lined straight for the confessional, curtain wide. She needed _alone time_.

She adjusted the curtain flush to each side, still standing because it was easier to masterbate on her tiptoes than sitting down. A small moan came out when she finally touched herself, swollen and slick and she was definitely going to miss her next class while _she took care of this_. 

She pulled her hand out of her panties and rubbed herself through her skirt, her middle finger offering the brunt of the pressure, pausing every once in a while to resituate, then begin again in earnest, her face growing hot. 

Her thoughts were moments of real life and fantasy, taking her knowledge and imagination, the taste of skin in her mouth: sweat, pheromones, and precum, blending it into a perfect cocktail of lust in the house of the Lord while she came and came. Three times for good measure. Her noises would sound like someone crying, sadly, if anyone passed by. Which they didn’t.

Still breathing hard, she pulled her phone out of her bag and texted the number, thinking. She wanted to be clever because Mr. Solo was, even beneath his lazy grins and slow movements. Oh, she had something good. This line from King Lear reminded her of Kylo when she read it and it was perfect for him/Mr. Solo. She typed slowly and reread it for spelling errors, even though it was only seven words.

**The prince of darkness is a gentleman!**

Pulling her skirt as far down as it would go, she licked her fingers to clean off her scent. Sometimes they snuck behind the basketball court for a cigarette before the buses and they’d have their hands close to each other’s faces to light them and God, her fingers smelled like come. 

He wasn’t responding. She should have waited until his last class was over. She double checked to make sure she got the number right, then entered him into her contacts. She couldn’t name him ‘Kylo’ or ‘Mr. Solo’ in case someone saw, but she had something better.

A message popped up, vibrating in her hand.

“Oh my God,” she whispered to herself, thrilled he would text her during class.

**Prince of Darkness: So you did read King Lear. Expecting extra credit?**

Rey giggled, sitting down. What should she say next?

There was a rustling of curtain rings. Father Luke, climbing into the booth on his side of the partition. Rey stuffed her phone in her bag and sat up straight. He could see her if he looked, but he just turned and sat, adjusting his curtain closed.

Rey’s heart raced. She wasn’t supposed to be out of class.

“Um. Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four days since my last confession,” Rey blurted. She was assigned Monday mornings and never took confession willingly on other days.

“What’s weighing on you, my child?” He said, not chastising her for skipping.

She had to think of something good. Something that would warrant her being there.

“I started birth control on Monday. And I know that’s not part of God’s plan. And it doesn’t mean I’m doing anything! I just talked to a doctor and they suggested it.”

“Was this Nurse Leia?” He asked, as if he knew she gave out birth control shots. But Rey didn’t want to get Nurse Leia in trouble.

Nurse Leia had surmised from Rey's UTI that she had had sex recently and offered a shot that gave three months of protection, still recommending she use a condom. She was so nice--and didn't ask probing questions--that Rey decided to take the shot, gratefully, even though it was _very frowned upon_ by most conservative Catholics. They thought it was messing with what God wanted...or making kids more likely to pursue sex for _pleasure_ , rather than _procreation_. 

“No, no! A free clinic!” Rey lied. 

Father Luke rolled his neck and there was the cracking of cartilage. He was mad. 

Rey decided to sit quietly, even though her phone buzzed in her book bag and she was dying to know what Mr. Solo was saying.

“You know--Rey, isn’t it? These are natural urges. We just don’t want you to risk your soul, do we? Having intercourse before marriage is about the worst thing you can do,” Father Luke said, slowly. And for some reason Rey wished they were still sitting in silence. Something about his tone. And the fact that he’d said her name, which wasn’t normal. His side was lit modestly and hers was dark, the point being that the penitent’s identity was concealed, making it easier to confess.

“I’m not having sex,” she lied, hating saying that word in church.

“But you’re thinking about it,” Father Luke guessed, “and I’ll bet you’ve committed mortal sin, and that’s why I’m here, to wash you clean.” His voice was getting deeper, not at all like when she typically confessed, when the pews were filled with other students waiting their turn.

Mortal sin meant porn. Or masterbation. Her PE teacher taught them last year that masterbation was a sign of an unhealthy sex addiction. She closed her eyes, hoping he hadn’t heard her in here and he was just _supposing_ that she was a teenager with teenage urges.

“No, not really thinking about it either,” Rey said, feeling tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. 

“Aw, it’s okay, Rey,” he crooned. “Why don’t I move your confessions to Monday and Wednesdays after school and we’ll talk more about it next time,” he said, turning and looking at her through the partition, which he wasn’t supposed to do. “I’m going to need you to tell me the truth, though, if I’m to help you. But for now, you should be in class.”

Rey nodded, waiting for her penance. She wanted to _get out of there_.

The other kids weren’t at the basketball court, but she had her own pack, raising a trembling lighter to her cigarette and inhaling, wondering what the hell Father Luke was playing at and whether or not she was going to tell Mr. Solo. Her phone vibrated with another missed text.

Digging in her bag, she found her phone, balancing her cigarette.

It was an address, not far from the school.

**The Prince of Darkness:** **1634 Lake Washington Blvd, Seattle**

 **  
****The Prince of Darkness: Midnight. I’ll leave my roof unlocked.**

Rey smiled, her stomach knots undone by two measly texts.

She had a car to get there, but just her learners permit. As long as she didn’t get pulled over she would be fine. And as long as her grandfather didn’t hear her sneak out through the back kitchen door. He was a light sleeper.

She saw her bus pull in and started walking, stopping to crush her cigarette, typing as she walked.

**R: I’ll be there.**

On the bus, her phone buzzed again.

**The Prince of Darkness: Wear the skirt.**


	5. You can sin or spend the night all alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I got desperate desires, and unadmirable plans  
>  My tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent  
> You laugh at every word trying too hard to be cute  
> I almost feel sorry for what I'm gonna do  
> And your hair smells of smoke  
> Who will cast the first stone?  
> You can sin or spend the night all alone  
> And you're using all your looks that you've thrown from the start  
> If you let me have my way I swear I'll tear you apart**
> 
> Me vs Maradona vs Elvis by Brand New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All hail Brand New for this ode to angst.

It was almost time for Rey to leave her house and his thumb was hovering over the little arrow that would send the text message he had typed. 

About an hour ago, Ben had slipped into one of his dark moods, the kind usually reserved for post-show high comedowns. And he didn’t want to be around anyone for that. Maybe it was the 7 hours he spent running around, cleaning and blasting music, using up every drop of serotonin, imagining Rey in her little skirt in his house. 

Now he was sitting in the blackness. Taut. Coiled. Hating everyone. Not a single light on in his house, apart from the glare of his phone screen. He took a sip of his second gin and tonic, rereading the message. He’d need to send it soon.

**B: Can we do this another night? Just remembered we’re doing an early recording session in the morning and I should get to bed.**

His thumb twitched over it but his doorbell chimed—fucking cheerfully. She was early.

He sat there like a prick, watching her silhouette shift in his doorway, illuminated by the far off street lights from the main road. He took another sip and looked out the sliding glass doors to the dock lights of Lake Washington.

Rey knocked this time, maybe thinking the doorbell was broken. 

He was becoming everything he hated.

She turned to leave and he felt himself jump up and run to the door, ripping it open when she got to her car. She smiled, coming back. 

If she had any sense she would have stayed home.

But she was here. And she’d worn the skirt.

“Sorry, thought you’d use the roof,” he joked—without an ounce of humor. He caught a whiff of cigarette smoke on her hair as she ducked under the arch of his arm—into his uninviting cave.

“Were you sleeping?” She asked. 

She had on heels. And makeup. And he was in sweatpants and oh, still shirtless.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to insert some fucking inflection to his voice. He sounded creepy without it. Like a bored murderer.

He flipped switches on, offering her a _drink drink_ before he realized he shouldn’t and she took him up on it. He made her a whiskey and Coke, sweet, like _her_ voice.

She looked down at his bare feet and stepped out of her heels, probably thinking he didn’t allow shoes in the house. It _was_ looking rather sterile, like some anal retentive, middle-aged man might live there. All his fun stuff was in the studio room, the only room that had personality.

“Are you okay, Mr. Solo?” She asked, hanging up her cardigan on hooks by his door he had never even noticed were there. _Nice job, decorator._

“Don’t call me that, just Ben is fine. Come here, baby,” he said. One minute and he already sounded apologetic.

She smiled her white, even-toothed smile—the one that made her eyes squint—and padded over to him, setting her drink down quickly on his counter when she realized he was reaching for her.

He kissed her, hunching there in front of his refrigerator, tightening his arms around her waist like a constrictor. She parted her lips, letting his tongue snake inside.

She tasted like toothpaste. He tasted like gin.

He lifted her by the ass and planted her on his kitchen counter. Goosebumps prickled down her legs and he grinned. The counter was cold on her ass. The whole house was cold.

“You cold?” He asked, sounding sarcastic instead of sincere, not giving her a chance to respond as his tongue plundered her mouth some more.

His dick was straining against his pants and he pressed his pelvis to the cabinets because boners in sweatpants looked ridiculous.

He paused to take a drink and she spat out a sentence before he went back to kissing her.

“Can I get a tour?” 

Ben’s hands had just started hiking her skirt up. And there was the goofy boner to consider. And when he was like this, the littlest thing set him off. 

Irascible. That’s what his probation officer called him.

“Can we do it after?” Ben asked, rolling his head into the hollow of her neck, pretending to be playful, coming off sad.

“Sure, sorry,” she laughed. As if she had anything to be sorry about.

He jerked her closer to the edge and pushed her flat on her back, amazed how she just obeyed his every whim, splayed out on his kitchen counter after three minutes at his house.

His hands explored, finding her panties and peeling them down her legs into a rolled-up figure 8. Just plain black. Cotton. The kind you buy when you’re shopping on your parent’s dime. Or grandparent, in her case.

She sat up on her elbows when she finally realized something was wrong. When he’d been staring at her in her skirt. Hadn’t even lifted it yet. She was still covered. And this was kind of the point of no return. Like locking the changing room door.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

She sat up and held her arms out. “Come here,” she said, sounding wise beyond her years, repeating his own invitation back to him. 

He stepped forward and she slid her hands between his arms and chest, perched and bare-assed on his counter.

“Let’s go...lay down,” she suggested, letting him lead the way to his bedroom. Dark hall. Dark bedroom. 

She didn’t turn on any lights, just climbed into his California King and curled up in the curve of him. 

He shouldn’t fuck her when he was like this. Zombie Ben. It’d be like the first time, just using her. And she was too young and nice to be used. But he needed...something.

He dug his erection into her ass, gripped her hip bone tight, and turned her on her back. He climbed on top of her, but crawled down, lifting her skirt and spreading her legs.

Throwing the covers off his back, he felt his way in the dark, till his mouth found her pussy, licking a firm stripe from her entrance to her clit.

“Ah,” she whined, her hand feeling for his head and fisting a clump of his hair. 

Maybe he wouldn’t feel bad if he only got _her_ off. _That couldn’t be using._

The tip of his tongue teased her clit and he closed his lips around her there, licking a hot series of circles and lines. She liked up and down the best, her hand ripping his hair at the roots. 

He grinned again, then wet two fingers with her slick and stuffed them into her, jiggling them obscenely deep in her cunt. 

Rey keened and he resumed his licking until she was close, both hands in his hair. He stuffed his pinky in her asshole and she came. Hard. Nearly breaking his nose with her pubic bone as she jerked and gasped. 

“Ow,” Ben laughed, holding his nose with his _clean_ hand and walking to his bathroom, switching on the light. He washed his hands.

“Ben,” Rey said, pulling her skirt down and sitting up. “Can I just tell you something?”

“What’s up, baby?” He muttered, pressing his boner into the sink now. _Fucking sweatpants_. He was looking at his reflection. He looked...vacant.

“I may have—I may have given you the wrong impression of me at your concert,” she started. 

Ben switched off the light and came back, kneeling in front of her. Talking in the dark was easier.

“Baby, that was just dirty talk, I don’t actually think you’re a slut. Hell, you can’t be a slut at 16, you haven’t had the chance to be a slut.”

“Ben, you’re not listening to me,” she said, pushing his hands off her hips. He hadn’t even realized he’d started groping at her again. She just felt so good.

“That was my first time. That was my first kiss. That was the first time I ever did drugs. That was my first metal concert…”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Ben said, because she was getting all anxious. “Hey, that’s my bad, I should have asked and not assumed. You had given blowjobs before though?”

“No!”

“But-.”

“I watched porn, _okay_?” She said, sounding like she was crying, like she’d been crying, maybe even during. 

Ben wiped at her face, “Hey…” It _was_ wet. “We don’t have to do anything. And I’m sorry. I get in these moods.”

Rey’s mouth found his and he kissed her, with some god damn inflection.

“Baby,” Ben whispered, wiping her cheeks. His mood lifted as hers plunged, as if they were connected, like a fucking emotional seesaw. “Just tell me everything you want. What did you want when you came over here?”

Rey laid back down and he climbed over her, resuming the big spoon position.

“I don’t know,” she said, pulling his arm over her. “I’d like to kiss you and have sex and do things, but not too fast. I’d like to do it without a condom because I got a shot. And I’d like to play on your famous guitar and the piano in your living room.”

Ben laughed at the ceiling.

“That all sounds great. You play guitar?” 

“No, but I can play piano,” she said. And he heard the smile in her voice.

Ben ran his hand over her ribs and hip. He couldn’t help it. 

“You want to record something?” He asked, finally feeling 'in the mood', sliding his hand between her legs. 


	6. How did it all get so heavy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **It's starting to wear  
>  Off and I feel so bad  
> How did it all get so heavy?  
> I wanted to belong but  
> They wouldn't let me  
> It always felt strange  
> To be no one**   
> 
> 
> Lost Girls by Sin Fang

Ben’s hand was gentle, lifting her leg over his and continuing to rub tight circles into her clit.

Rey couldn’t make him out. He was mercurial tonight. Unreadable. His words would say one thing and his actions another. Like a disconnect. Like just now when he asked if she wanted to record something, but his body asked something else.

He kissed her arm and that felt like a question too. Like a ‘Do you want me to stop?’ 

She responded, freeing him from his pants behind her and positioning him at her entrance.

His hand retreated from her for a second, just long enough to wet himself with spit and then it was back and he was thrusting into her, still gentle. He was _really_ big, but somehow they fit together, somewhere on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, hopefully, and she didn’t know who he was now but it _did_ feel so good and she loved it when he talked.

“Yes,” she breathed.

She was on her back, one leg tossed over him, the other threaded between his while he laid on his side. 

He went deeper, his hand moving to clamp on her thigh, and she angled herself to take all of him, her head hanging off the bed now, but it was worth it.

“You’re so warm,” he said, almost to himself.

Rey couldn’t tell if she was relaxing or if tension was building. Maybe her brain was calming and her body was taking over. But she definitely liked it better without the condom. Feeling his skin on hers and knowing he could feel her too. 

He pulled her up and onto all fours and went faster and she cried out, feeling him hitting that impossible place inside, his tip sliding across it on his way to her limits. 

“Still good, baby?” He asked.

Ben’s upper legs were longer than hers and he was kneeling up straight, grasping her hips, holding her up. Her knees weren’t even on the bed anymore as he pulled her back and forth over him.

“I’m going to come,” Rey said, trying not to sound whiny. Like a porn star. But she _really was_ going to come.

He liked that. His hands tightened—almost all the way around her—and he went faster. 

Her wrists hurt from bending on the soft bed and his fingers were digging into her curves, but she came, mouth gaping, her core squeezing him tight, and he must have liked the feel of that, because her cries were overlapped by his low groan. 

Her knees hit the bed again and Ben’s hot come went sliding down her inner thigh, but he didn’t pull out, maybe because there would be a mess, or maybe because he wanted to stay inside her longer. They caught their breath, spiraling down.

“I was serious,” he said, when he slid out, giving her ass a parting squeeze. “Let’s record something.”

Rey rinsed off thoroughly in his bathtub faucet—and peed, also in his bathtub—because Leia had told her to do that _after_. She felt floaty and happy. Proud that she was at a grown man’s house and was capable of pleasing him. She’d never felt very sexy until his concert, when he watched her with that guilt-ridden look.

When she came out, the bedroom was empty but the hall light was on and she followed the sounds of a piano to an open door. She was standing in the small recording room and could see through the glass; Ben sitting at the piano, shirtless in a pair of tattered jean shorts. 

The inner room was just big enough for the piano (another one), the drum set, and a couple stools, maybe for guitarists. The walls absorbed most of his sound and were plain white, but the recording booth was wallpapered with record sleeves, albums ranging from Bob Dylan to death metal. She spotted a guitar case by the far wall and suspected it might be his fancy guitar, but didn’t want to peek without permission.

She closed the door to the hall and he looked up, motioning for her to come in all the way and pointing to a stack of notebooks on top of the piano. 

“Those songs I wrote for piano,” he explained, tinkling away on the keys while she dug through them. He was letting her pick a song. She found an old composition notebook, full of doodles, pen-written lyrics on one side and score on the other.

“Not that one,” Ben snapped, reaching for it. “It’s so old. I wrote all that when I was your age.”

Rey held onto it, reading the lyrics for a song called ‘Lost Girls’. “I like this one,” she said, defending his teenage work. Also, it didn’t look too difficult and she hated sight reading. She propped it up on the music desk and slid onto the bench next to him. 

He was biting his lip, glaring at the book, but she started practicing and his eyes fell to her hands. It was a two person piece and she took the solemn low notes while he joined with the quick, tricky part at the beginning, then he removed his hands and let her play, humming along.

“You’ve got it,” he said, when she stopped. “Maybe slower.” 

They started over and this time he sang into a microphone, a voice that sounded _nothing_ like his Priest Killer album. It was honest and not Kylo or Mr. Solo. It was Ben. 

The words caught in his throat and he stopped, trying to hide it with some excuse. 

“I think you should sing with me,” he said, clearing his throat.

“I don’t know if I can do both at the same time,” Rey said. 

“Okay, let’s play, then we’ll sing the song second,” he said. “It’ll sound better that way anyway. And I’ll add some drums last.” He raised his hands to the keys, but Rey was reading through the lyrics again.

“What’s it about? If I’m going to sing it, shouldn’t I know what it’s about?” Rey said, feeling the heat of his arm close to hers.

Ben sat up straight, gripping the edge of the bench. “It’s. About how I had a hard time with something in high school. I was caught between the Fathers and the students, trying to belong with both and not really managing with either.”

That didn’t sound so bad. The song seemed too sad for that.

—————————-

Ben pressed her against her car in a perfect moment of sunrise and early morning quiet. She needed to get home before her grandfather woke up, but she didn’t want to leave. The night had started off rocky, but turned into something beautiful. 

Like he was seeing _her_ , and not just her body. Like she was making the grade.

“Ugh, I don’t want you to leave,” he said, kissing her neck, but not sucking like the first time. Now that they were being cautious.

His hands were pushing her skirt higher and she blushed, looking around, but shrubs shielded his driveway in all directions. 

She tipped her head back on her car, cold on the door and hot on the roof where the sun was heating it, steaming away last night’s dew. She really had to go. It was 5 am and her grandfather woke up at 6, and she still had to drive home.

Ben’s hand dipped into her panties and she let him touch her. What was a few more minutes? 

“I should go,” Rey said, even though she was trying to come. She knew what it was to be Ben last night. His brain and body in a constant battle.

“Come for me one more time, baby. Wake my neighbors up,” he said in her ear, rubbing two fingers up and down her clit and she bit down on his bare shoulder because she almost did scream.

She ran her hands down his chest, wishing they could go back inside and spend the day recording and having sex. She didn't need sleep. She hadn’t even gotten to play on his guitar. But all she had was the next couple of minutes and she focused, enjoying them. His rough hand and his breath on her neck. 

Her hands wandered lower, feeling his need through his jeans. For some reason, that got her the rest of the way and she sobbed into his shoulder. He covered her mouth, grinning, even though he’d _told_ her to wake his neighbors.

He opened her door and she climbed in. _Shit. 5:20._

“I have to go,” she said, hurriedly.

“I know,” he said, closing the door and waving as he backed up. 

He texted her ‘Lost Girls’ and she listened to it as she drove home, the sun blinding as it reflected off of Lake Washington. The song sounded more haunted than she realized when they were making it, but she sang along.

"We keep calm until our eyes are gone. The sun comes up behind a black plastic bag. And I take a slow drag.”


	7. I want to leave the memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I want to leave the memories of things that  
>  never happened, may it keep me warm  
> Falling with grace I wish I was the one  
> You said you think I can get to the top  
> I'm lost in those memories of things that  
> never happened, may it keep me warm**
> 
> Remember by Saavan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skip to the end notes for trigger warnings. (at the end to avoid spoilers)

Ben rubbed his eyes. He was too old for all-nighters. He always took a long nap before a show. 

He fell into bed, asleep within seconds, his pillows all on the floor.

He dreamt about Rey’s little fingers dancing across his piano keys, better than he was at 16. When he was her age, he hated lessons but loved writing lyrics. His generation didn’t have poets, but they _did_ have lyrics.

When he woke up, the sun was setting and he walked the house three times, looking for his phone, eventually finding it in the kitchen next to Rey’s unfinished drink. 

He had a text from Rey—or ‘Cordelia’, as he had named her in his phone, a reference to King Lear’s badass daughter.

**Cordelia: Poe is taking us all camping tonight. I’m so tired. I’ll save you a hotdog.**

Rey’s message was from hours ago. Walking back into his bedroom, he plugged his phone in and tried not to picture Rey on a sexy camping trip with the ‘coolest’ boy in school.

**B: No thanks, I’m vegan.**

**B: And tell Poe to keep his goddamn hands to himself.**

He stared at his phone, waiting, rereading his responses. He sounded really crabby.

After a few minutes, he wondered if she even had cell service wherever they were and closed his eyes, but then his phone buzzed.

**Cordelia: You’re vegan?! Why?**

**B: Ever been to a slaughterhouse?**

**Cordelia: No.**

**B: Yeah. I tend to look behind the curtain these days.**

**Cornelia: Fine. I’ll skip the hotdog. Bleh. I hate beer.**

“Fuck,” Ben muttered.

**B: Who brought the beer?**

**Cordelia: Poe. He gets all kinds of contraband from his older brother.**

Ben didn’t like her being _drunk_ in the _woods_ with _Poe_. Poe reminded him of himself at that age, playing bad boy, instigating, washing his sins clean every Monday.

**B: How many went camping?**

**Cordelia: 6. Poe, Rose, Paige, Finn, Kaydel, and me.**

Well, at least she wasn’t alone with him.

**Cordelia: But Poe’s putting me and Paige in his tent which is weird. He told me he just threw the sleeping bags in at random. Psh. Yeah right.**

Ben mashed the phone screen with his thumbs as he typed.

**B: Stop drinking and tell him you have a gigantic boyfriend.**

**Cordelia: Will do, Prince of Darkness.**

Ben kept his phone in hand, closing his eyes for another half an hour, fighting the urge to continue bugging her about what was happening. 

She sent him a video of them dancing around the fire and she spoke directly to the camera in a drunken whisper.

“Poe is druuunk. Look at him. You’d never guess he’s the most religious one of us,” she said, laughing.

God, Poe was _so_ much like him. There was a time, _before_ , when Ben had wanted to be a priest, like his uncle and grandfather.

—————————————

“You have so much potential, Ben,” Father Snoke said, dotingly. “This is how all priests start out, as guardians of their schools. Of the souls of their classmates. That is still your goal, isn’t it? To become a priest?”

Ben had homework to do, but Father Snoke kept him after school for hours, talking like this, almost every week since he was 12. 

“Yes,” Ben said. It used to be a placation, but he didn’t know if it was a lie anymore. Maybe, after all this work, he _did_ want to be a priest.

“What lost souls do you have for me this week?” He asked. Like he did every week. Sitting himself next to Ben in the front pew of the school’s chapel.

Father Snoke chose one student every six years to tell him the intimate details of the students. If he didn’t know their sins, he couldn’t save them. If he couldn’t save them, they would burn in hell. 

And he had chosen Ben. Because Ben looked out for people.

“Well, Father, I had a party last Saturday and here’s the list. These folks just drank, but quite a few of them I got talking and a lot of stuff came out during Never Have I Ever. Savannah was crying. Apparently she had a boyfriend who dumped her and he was kind of abusive-sounding. She tried to kiss me but she’s a senior and I kinda freaked out…” Ben said, stopping as Father Snoke chuckled, taking his crumpled notes.

“This is well done, Ben, very thorough. Amazing what people will tell _you_ that they won’t tell their own Father in the holy confessional,” Father Snoke said, reading through the rest of the page in silence.

Ben had written down everything. Even the stuff he would never tell another student. David, who admitted he was gay--after several shots. Cleo who said she hated Father Snoke and called him a ‘bald fucking nightmare’.

“Such colorful language,” Father Snoke muttered, his voice deadly calm.

Ben hated this. But things were easier this way. The other students thought Ben was cool, unafraid of retribution, rather than a goody two shoes—a hard image to break with his uncle and mother working at the school.

And Father Snoke forgave him for everything he did. For the secular music he listened to and the mortal sin and the dirty thoughts. And anything he did to get more information was all in the clear, for the good of the other students.

Father Snoke licked his lips. “You’ve probably got to get home now, right, Ben?” 

“Yes, thank you, Father,” Ben said, standing and making for the door. 

“Oh, Ben, one more thing,” Father Snoke said.

Ben turned around, watching Father Snoke adjust his white collar.

“This spring we have an important visitor coming. The archbishop, Father Palpatine, is coming to _our_ school. And I’d like to introduce you to him, tell him about your great work. He knew your grandfather, you know,” he said, and Ben’s pride soared.

“Really? That’s really cool,” Ben said. “Thank you, Father.”

“It’s the least I can do, Ben,” he said, folding the list.

——————————————

Ben climbed out of bed and stalked down the hall, back to his studio where he dug through his notebooks and found at least three from high school. He carried the offending journals into the living room and tossed them in the fire grate, then gave them a good douse of lighter fluid. 

He checked his phone as he walked to the kitchen and rifled through the drawers for the long, BIC candle lighter. It was under a stack of old mail. 

**Cordelia: We were playing a game and guess what. Poe is a virgin. OMG! You have no idea how much shit he gave me. He calls ME Virgin Mary.**

_Just. Fucking. Like. Him._

Poe was Teenage Ben’s fucking clone.

**B: There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. You guys are 16. There’s plenty of time for all of that later.**

**Cordelia: I didn’t say there was. I’m just saying he gave me a hard time about it.**

**B: Sex doesn’t make anyone more or less than anyone else.**

**Cordelia: I know! Ease up!**

**B: Go to sleep.**

Three minutes went by. In Text World, that felt long.

**Cordelia: Um. You know what? I think I’m going to shotgun a beer with Poe.**

Ben laughed dryly. 

It was only a matter of time before Rey realized she was better off with a boy her own age, someone who was her type--and could date her publicly. And this little frenemies act wasn’t fooling him for a second. He’d watched Poe moon over her all week. Any jibes were obviously fumbling flirtations.

**B: Enjoy your fucking hangover.**

_Mature, Ben._

**Cordelia: Just told Poe I broke up with my gigantic boyfriend.**

Ben typed. Then erased. Then typed it again. 

**B: You never had one.**

Ben waited for her retort, but she didn’t respond--and that felt worse than an insult. At least if they were bickering, he knew she was thinking about him. 

He didn’t know why he was defending Poe in the first place, but it felt like he was defending himself. His lanky, big-eared, teenage self, sitting in the empty concrete stadium that morning with his father’s gun in a trash bag next to him, smoking what might have been his last cigarette, and wondering how many minutes it takes to die from a bullet through the brain.

Grown Up Ben stuffed his dying phone in the back pocket of his shorts and squatted at the hearth, clicking the lighter to make his own campfire. 

There was a whoosh that pushed his hair off his forehead and the pages ignited, curling and blackening, tipped with bright red.

If he couldn’t erase the memories, the least they could do was keep him warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicidal ideation.


	8. Said too much and I went too far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Lose my faith, gotta borrow some  
>  We go higher, we go higher  
> New mistakes when tomorrow comes  
> We go higher, we go higher  
> Said too much and I went too far  
> We go higher, we go higher  
> Down on luck, well that's all we are  
> We go higher, we go higher  
> What I gotta figure, if it hurts is it worth it**
> 
> Turn It Around by K. Flay

**The Prince of Darkness: You never had one.**

_What??_

A pang of hurt hit Rey in the gut and spread to her face, her nose scrunching, but Finn and Paige were laying right next to her and she had to hide her phone screen. It was hard to register what Ben had just said while Kaydel’s pop playlist pumped from the minivan’s stereo, all upbeat and toe-tapping.

Or maybe it was the weed. Ben had told Rey to stop drinking. He never said _anything_ about smoking. Paige passed her the joint but she handed it straight to Finn, over her head, too busy trying to get her brain to process. They were stretched out on their backs in the moss and pine needles, looking at the stars, feeling heavy in the body and light in the brain.

“Who are you texting?” Poe asked, _suspecting something_ , monitoring the fire and jabbing it with a branch. He looked like he was about to trip into the flames. Or like any minute his leg hair was going to catch fire.

“No one,” Rey seethed, locking her phone and throwing it at the open minivan door, watching to make sure it landed in the floorboard. Kaydel had passed out in the driver’s seat after drinking too much too fast. Their DJ, asleep on the job.

_What was Ben’s problem?_ What were they even fighting about? She wasn’t making fun of Poe. She thought she might be missing something, maybe because of the pot. Texting was becoming unfathomably difficult. It took her several read-throughs to be sure she understood something and even then it felt like he didn’t get her sarcasm. She wasn’t _really_ telling Poe anything about having a boyfriend.

Rey’s arms and ankles were becoming a mosquito buffet and the back of her head hurt from laying on the ground. _Plus_ she was sex-sore again, a feeling she was enjoying up until Ben’s biting assholery. The weed helped in that respect: less pain, made her veins feel like helium, made the music entrancing, hard to keep her eyes open. Poe’s brother was awesome for giving Poe so many fun drugs, even if this one did make her thirsty. 

She took a sip of her plain Coke and it tasted like last night, right before Ben kissed her, holding her too tight as if afraid she was going to make a run for it. But the harder he squeezed, the safer she felt.

“Who wants to go skinny dipping?” Rey said, wildly, sitting up and taking her shirt off. She had on a boring, white bra, but everyone’s eyes snapped to her anyway.

“Oh, don’t Rey. Last time you were high you had to be carried off,” Rose said, sitting cross-legged near the fire, working her way through a bag of marshmallows.

Smart. Rey should have eaten something. But then again, she would have had to drink more beer to get to where she was now. And Rainier tasted like someone had pressure-washed a dumpster and canned up the runoff to peddle it as the taste of the Pacific Northwest. ‘It makes the mountain smile.’ Maybe if the mountains liked to watch campers vomit.

“It’ll be freezing!” Paige said, but she grabbed her beer and stood, whispering, “You should leave your underwear on—since the guys are here—though.”

“Nope, skinny dipping means no bra!” Rey shouted, feeling reckless and vengeful—and dizzy. But yeah, she was going to leave her panties on. Ohhh she could take a picture with Poe, half-naked. _Ben would shit a brick._ Or maybe he wouldn’t care at all. 

Rey didn’t have a flashlight, but Paige used her phone to light their way as they dodged pokey blackberry bushes that crossed the path. Poe caught up to them with towels, ripping his shirt off by the collar as he walked. He had more muscles than last summer. Rey might have dated him, if she’d never met Ben Solo. Poe was too easy. Ben was complicated and surprising and unpredictable. 

The swimming hole looked creepy at night, but it had a handicap access road, which made it perfect for driving up to camp, even though it wasn’t allowed. Unbuttoning her skinny jeans at the water’s edge—all large, dusty rocks—she worked them over her hips and calves and tossed them on the bank, smiling as Paige copied her. She didn’t want to be in the water alone. And she wanted a story to talk about later. On Monday. In English class.

Poe dove in off the big rock, naked. But that would be terrifying—to go headfirst into the deep, black water.

It was chilly away from the fire, but she was coursing with burning rage and rejection. She undid her bra, the night air making her nipples prickle, but Paige and Poe probably couldn’t see that well.

“ _Mary_!” Poe called, as if shocked by her brazen strip-down. All she could see of his nakedness was his pale face floating disembodied in the middle, sliding sideways with the current.

“You can’t call me that,” Rey said, stepping carefully into the water in nothing but her pink underwear. The descent was steep over clean rocks the size of car tires—and thankfully nothing muddy or squishy. She was trying not to think what creatures would live in the water. Everything underfoot _could_ be a turtle's shell. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

“Since _when_?” Poe said, as if she’d made that up on the spot, swimming closer. 

“Since I had sex with _Kylo Ren_ ,” she blurted, loud enough for them both to hear, deep enough now to start swimming out, her legs covered in painful goosebumps. This was dumb. She missed the cozy campsite atmosphere.

“What?!” Paige screeched. Luckily there was no one else for miles. Paige was screaming about how excited she had been to catch Kylo’s _pick_ and all this time Rey had seen his-

“Did you really?” Poe said, three feet away from her, waiting to see if she was going to shout ‘psych!’, his face growing serious.

“Yeah, in his changing room,” Rey said, looking down to see if Poe could see her boobs through the water. He might be able to.

“He had to be, like, _30_ ,” Poe said, believing her now. 

“He was 27,” Rey scoffed, as if she’d barely noticed the _huge_ age difference, treading water in a circle with Poe, trying not to look as Paige joined them, her breasts twice as big as Rey’s and her panties twice as small.

“Did you wear a condom?” Paige mouthed, but Poe could hear her anyway, the three of them a synchronized circle of trusted confidants. Mostly.

“No,” Rey said, letting her gasp. “But _he_ did.” 

Paige splashed her. 

It felt good to talk about it, even if it was shared out of disappointment. 

“Rey, you were really out of it,” Poe said, reminding her.

“He gave me some water,” she said, defensively. “He was all shirtless and he held the bottle for me.”

“Ahhh,” Paige cried, squeezing Rey’s arm.

  
  
Poe put his hand on Rey’s head and pushed her under. 

_So maddeninly cold._ But it cleared her head a little. She was regretting telling them already. There was a chance Ben was just in a mood and they would make up. She came back up, teeth chattering.

“Sorry, you were in need of a baptism,” Poe said, bitterly, the devil’s advocate to their playful tone. “But he shouldn’t have taken advantage of you when you were like that. And a high schooler,” Poe said, probably just jealous. 

Rey didn’t want to tell them she had basically offered herself to him. And lied about her age. She was _almost_ 16.

“Was he like, _really tall_?” Paige asked. Paige’s first boyfriend was a stocky soccer player, last year—that’s who she lost her virginity to—and she’d complained about his height for months, as if hoping he was going to have a growth spurt.

“It’s pretty much all the same when you’re horizontal,” Rey said, digging water out of her ear. “But you guys promise me you won’t tell anyone. You know how our school is.” She looked meaningfully at Poe.

“Hey, I probably won’t remember tonight anyway. I forgot most of last Sunday,” he said, still looking slightly disgruntled, adult-like, and he wore it well.

Rey floated on her back, still mulling over the idea of taking a scandalous photo, when she heard someone getting out of the water and looked over to see Paige wrapping herself in a towel. 

“It’s too cold,” she said, pussying out.

It was just her and Poe now, tension building whether she wanted it to or not. And she didn’t want to go back to the campfire. She’d check her phone and there probably wouldn’t be any messages. 

Poe climbed out onto the big rock and wrapped his waist in a towel, then sat, watching Rey. 

“Like the view?” Rey laughed, swimming over one-armed, covering her chest as she found the third towel, one of those wonderful, oversized, beach towels with stupid dolphins on the too-soft side.

“You know,” Poe said, staring at his knees, “I always thought one day you’d be my first.” He looked all the way left and Rey felt very awake, wondering if he was _crying_. “I shouldn’t have taken you to that show.”

Rey laid her head on his cold shoulder, feeling bad for considering using him for a risque photo to make Ben jealous. She closed her eyes, trying to think of something comforting or flattering, opening her mouth as his lips and tongue moved on hers. _What the fuck?!_

She jumped up, pushing him off the rock and into the water, towel and all.

_Fucking Poe!_ He _never_ asked what _she_ wanted!


	9. This guilt that will crush me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Yeah, you were right about me  
>  Can I get myself out from underneath  
> This guilt that will crush me  
> And in the choir  
> I saw our sad messiah  
> He was bored and tired of my laments  
> Said I'd die for you one time but never again**
> 
> Limousine by Brand New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long song, like 7 min. The part that really drives me wild is when he’s counting. Omg it just builds and is intense. So just a reminder…
> 
> [The Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1p2aehfLeVPIYcBgonZDIs?si=jv8uiB1AQy61x7G4msGkNg)
> 
> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING, SEE THE END NOTE FOR SPOILER IF YOU'RE CONCERNED.

Ben stopped to put his book bag in his locker. Father Snoke had called Ben to his office with a note. It said he wanted to make sure they were ‘on the same page’ before the archbishop’s visit the next day. 

He waved at Savannah where she sat, waiting outside the office to see Father Snoke. She was always getting into trouble. He called her to his office almost every week. She was one of his ‘Lost Girls’, the ones with sex addictions, the ones who got pregnant, the ones his mother said were nice girls and she couldn’t understand how they got into so much trouble.

Savannah had tried to kiss Ben at his party six months ago. Sometimes he wished he’d let her instead of telling Father Snoke. 

He knocked and turned the brass doorknob, oops the wrong way, and that was embarrassing with Savannah watching.

“Ah, Ben, close the door, let’s have a chat,” Father Snoke said, looking not busy at all and Ben wondered why he was making Savannah wait.

Ben sat down in one of the stiff leather chairs facing his desk, happy to be out of Calculus for any reason. 

“Ben,” Father Snoke said, crossing his arms. That was usually how he started his after-school Saving Souls Speeches, crossing his arms and saying Ben’s name a lot.

“You’ve been helping me for a long time. And I _think_ by now you probably have some idea about my _methods_.”

Ben shook his head, ticking his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. He really didn’t know what this was all about.

“The _girls_?” Father Snoke asked, reading Ben’s eyes. 

Ben didn’t like the sound of this. He tried to think. Was Father Snoke saying he had a method for dealing with the Lost Girls that Ben reported? He knew sometimes they had to stay after school too. He suspected he never made the boys stay after because it wasn’t as important. Boys couldn’t get pregnant.

“Or maybe you don’t,” Father Snoke said, grinning. “Ha. All these years with your ear to the ground and you never once distrusted me, Ben. That’s true loyalty. That’s exactly what our Lord wants.”

_Distrusted?_ Ben had a cold chill. The kind where his shoulders shook and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“I trust you, Ben. And I want the archbishop to trust you too. He cares about our wayward girls. Just like we do. And...I have to make sure you’re going to be of help as you get older. I have to be sure you’re not going to say anything to your parents or your uncle who don’t understand the delicate psychology behind what we do,” Snoke said, pulling his drawer open but taking nothing out.

Ben’s heart was racing because this sounded like an initiation, like a test he hadn’t studied for, or like something his mother would complain about. She always said Father Snoke had Ben in his clutches and ruled the school like a cult. His uncle stayed out of it, calling it ‘politics’, and his father was an atheist and always agreed with his mother.

“Come in, Savannah,” Father Snoke called, waiting for her to enter and close the door. And lock it? His hand went into the drawer and stayed there and Ben suddenly wanted to run. Was it a _gun_?!

“Savannah is trying to do her penance, Ben,” Father Snoke explained and Ben glanced at her. She looked just as abashed to be in Father Snoke’s office with him. “Savannah, child, down on your knees and bow.”

And she did. She got on her knees as if she’d done it a hundred times and put her hands on the floor, head bowed, waiting.

“Father-,” Ben started to ask what was going on, but he was motioning for Ben to stand and go over to her.

Maybe he was supposed to learn how to give penance...or a blessing? But he wasn’t a priest yet!

He stood, awkwardly in front of her and Father Snoke came around the desk, and It. Was. A. Gun.

“Shhh,” he hissed when Ben froze.

He kept it hanging at his side, heavy-looking, with his finger on the trigger.

“Don’t worry, Ben, we’ll get her there,” he said, lifting Savannah’s face by her chin. She was crying and Ben wondered if she was here because of him. Because he told on her for trying to kiss him. 

She reached for Ben's pants and he stepped back. Suddenly the gun was pressed against his temple and everything became clear.

Father Snoke was targeting girls. Maybe girls who had been abused before. Easy prey. Not just for himself, but for the cops who came to his office sometimes. Maybe even for the archbishop. And he wanted Ben tainted. Blackmailed into silence. Because he was part of this.

Savannah unzipped him, even though she was choking on tears and red. 

“Stop,” he told her, angry. Fucking furious. He was going to grab for the gun. He wouldn't fire it in the middle of a fucking school day.

“You’re a sociopath,” he told Snoke, rezipping his khakis.

Snoke beat him-twice, hard-in the nose with the butt of the gun and his nose bled like crazy. He realized he'd never felt _real pain_ before. It stung like needles and knives and made him sneeze and that splattered the front of his shirt and a little on Savannah's forehead.

Snoke lowered the gun to Savannah’s cheek and her face went blank.

“No, no, back to me,” Ben said, sounding stuffy, holding his nose as blood trickled down his throat, making him gag.

Snoke smiled, predicting more compliance, and raised the gun back to Ben’s ear.

Savannah grabbed for Ben’s pants, showing him she would do as she was told, and possibly distracting him. 

Snoke whispered in his ear, his mouth close to the gun barrel, “You’re my little dog, Ben. Do as I say or I'll have _you_ on your knees for the archbishop. He likes boys.”

Ben closed his eyes, because Savannah had him out and Snoke _looked down._

It was Ben's turn to cry now. Bubbles of blood forming at the back of his throat. Sounding like a girl every time he inhaled. His crush _sucking_ on him, hard with fear and desire and he couldn't look down.

It felt better than he could possibly imagine. Her hand stroking him and her soft lips running over his tip. Her tongue swirled around him, hot and slippery, and she didn’t have to do that--this was for show--but maybe she wanted him to hurry up and come so they could both get out of there.

Snoke walked backwards to sit at his desk behind Ben, pointing the gun at his back. 

Ben couldn’t believe this was actually happening. For five seconds he was gone, and her tongue swirled and he was back.

God, if they were alone in a bedroom or something he could have come so fast, but Snoke was behind him _watching_ and his nose might be broken and at least Savannah wasn’t crying anymore. He stopped when she stopped but he felt himself detaching. Zoning out. 

“Hey. Stay with me,” she whispered. Maybe she was afraid he was breathing hard because he was going to attack Snoke and get them both killed.

He wiped his eyes and nose on his shirt, hazarding his first look down at her, feeling like the guilt of seeing her would crush him, but she locked eyes with him, mouth fucking full, and he knew. 

She was okay. She’d done this before. And he needed to focus.

His hands were balled up in the bloody mess at the bottom of his white shirt and he was trying to listen to the wet sounds coming from Savannah’s mouth and watch the way she bobbed a little off the ground, her white tights protecting her knees. Oh, God. It felt so good. If there was a heaven it was in this girl’s mouth and it was all he could do to keep his head from falling back and thanking her aloud, but there was a figurine of Jesus on the cross, directly in front of him, reminding him how fucked up this moment was.

He tried to hurry, but Snoke was being so quiet it was terrifying.

He counted to ten slowly in his head, trying to stay present because terror was pulling him out of his body at the same time pleasure was dragging him back.

_One. God, I love this so much I’m going to hell._

_Two. How is her hair so blonde? It’s not even summer yet._

_Three. Her arm is getting tired. Hurry the fuck up, Ben._

_Four. I’m going to kill Snoke. I’ll use Dad’s gun._

_Five. Ohfucktongue I’m going to come soon._

_Six. This is so fucked up. I’m letting this happen and Jesus is watching and her hand doesn’t even fit around my-_

_Seven. God, going to come down her throat._

_Eight. I have to kill them all. So close…_

He put his bloody hand on her head, his chest heaving. This wasn’t his hand touching her. He would never do that.

_Nine. JesusFuckingChrist her tongue._

Savannah made a little noise, like a kitten, like she was enjoying this.

_Ten. Ohfuckyes._

Ben fisted her hair in warning, and she took a deep, sensual swallow, like she had been thirsty. Her lips were rubbed-red and she wiped his dick with her hand, then off on her tights. 

He realized how loud his breathing had become and his hands were sweaty as he tucked his dick back in his boxer briefs.

“Well done, Ben,” Father Snoke said as he turned around, glaring and trying to breath normally, but his nose was swollen and his mouth and teeth were coated in metallic blood.

“Savannah, you may go,” he said, no need for threats when the warning was in his voice. 

She looked at Ben in solidarity and walked out, normally, as if she had just been properly chastised for smoking behind the school or skipping class.

“Clean yourself up and go home early. Wear a suit tomorrow for the archbishop,” Snoke said, his hand resting on the gun.

“You’re a monster,” Ben said, feeling his mind drifting, telling his body to just walk out the door.

Snoke considered him for a long moment and Ben realized he should listen to his body and keep his mouth shut. Because whoever he had known since he was little was not the real Father Snoke. He’d been coaxed and brainwashed and used until he trusted this man with his future. But there was no light in this man’s eyes.

“Now you are too.”

———————————

The second bell rang and Ben blinked, watching the students filing in, depositing the weekend’s homework on the edge of his desk. He always observed them closely to make sure their smiles were sincere, checking for any signs of trouble at home or difficulty with the other teachers, who could be strict and sometimes heartless.

Rey came in last, refusing eye contact, setting her neatly-stapled paper down on the desk and taking her seat, before scooting _far away_ from Poe in their shared desk. 

Something had happened.

He’d have to find out what it was. Not because he had feelings for Rey, but because that was his penance, to protect everyone.

“Poe, quick word in the hall, bud,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner.

Poe followed him out the door, his eyes big, acting innocent.

Ben closed the door behind him, softly, thinking what tactic would best work on Poe. Probably guilt, if he was like Teenage Ben. “Anything you want to tell me, Poe?”

He shrugged, but his face went white. Ben just waited.

“Something happened but. It’s between me and Father Luke. And God,” he added, as if that would absolve him of any crime.

Ben felt his demons flare up. Slowly, he pulled his glasses off his face and leaned in close, speaking slow but letting the words snap between his teeth. “There is no god, you little _shit_. Now, tell me. _Did_ you _touch_ her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fuck or die scene.
> 
> I saw this documentary called The Keepers a while back about a Catholic school where the priest molested/raped girls and farmed them out to the cops and even killed a nun/teacher when she realized what was going on. And that inspired this evil Father Snoke.


	10. Patterns repeat, it shouldn't be surprising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Patterns repeat, it shouldn't be surprising  
>  Swear I've been trying to reach you I'm dying  
> You kill me why you keep your phone all on silent  
> Recognize my role, I fucked up the timing  
> But you and I lately been acting like islands  
> Make a girl wanna get stupid and violent**
> 
> Make Me Fade (B. Lewis Remix) by K. Flay

“No, I’m not bussing today,” Rey said when Paige pointed. 

Bus 7 pulled into the traffic circle and parked, engine still running, but Rey had just lit her cigarette, leaning against the brick wall, pricking at her shirt and hair. 

Today she was supposed to confess shit to Father Luke, and she should have gone straight to the chapel, but she just wanted to sit on the warm concrete and relax with her friends for ten minutes before whatever he had planned. Then she’d have to walk home, but it was only a twenty minute walk through safe neighborhoods.

“I could give you a ride,” Poe offered, cigaretteless. He never misbehaved at school. Poe got a free period to help around Father’s Luke’s office and that meant 25% less homework, so he wasn’t about to mess that up. He had been trying to find a way to get back in Rey’s good graces all day, but she had to freeze him out for at least a week so he’d know not to kiss her again. 

So she ignored him. “What do you guys think about Father Luke?” Rey asked, hinting, blowing her smoke away from the group.

“I like him more than Mr. Solo. He’s not even a Christian,” Poe said, catching her off guard, and again Rey wondered _what_ he’d said to Poe in the hall before class. Poe had come back a ball of anxiety and Mr. Solo was all smirks.

“I think she’s asking _the girls_ ,” Rose said, intimating the real purpose behind Rey’s question. She sat down when Rey didn’t correct her. “Oh my God. Did he _do_ something? Is _that_ why you’ve been different this week?”

Good to know Poe had kept quiet about _Kylo Ren_. So far. She hadn’t worried about Paige’s ability to keep a secret, even with her own sister. 

“No, he’s just got a creepy vibe,” Rey said. She was going to say ‘rapey’, but that was just a _feeling_. She had no proof, he didn’t _say_ anything out of the ordinary.

Paige and Rose’s mom pulled into the pickup lane. Paige helped Rose stand and even grabbed some of her things. Rey was always envious of the Tico sisters. They got along and looked out for each other and had a mom that had time to drop them off and pick them up every day. 

She couldn’t imagine _the archbishop_ pulling into the parent lane. Maybe one of his assistants.

“I’ve got to get home,” Finn said next. Poe was his ride, the only one of them with his license. They started walking toward student parking, then Poe spun around. “Wait, are you staying after school for _confession_?” He asked, as if Rey had detention.

“Yeah, he’s making me,” Rey said, standing and putting her cigarette butt under her shoe, twisting more than was necessary. “Maybe he thinks I’m _at risk_ because my parents are dead and my grandfather is old.” ‘At risk’ kids usually meant they had bad parents, or bad, non-Christian friends, or lived in a bad neighborhood. 

If anyone was ‘at risk’, it was Kaydel. Her dad was an alcoholic and her attendance had been bad since 10th grade. She wasn’t even here today. Actually, Rey was pretty sure Kaydel had had to do _summer school_ , so she shouldn’t be so disgruntled with one hour twice a week.

\--------------------------------------

The first few minutes of confession felt relatively normal, apart from the fact that Father Luke knew it was her. She preferred doing it with the group, thinking perhaps he didn’t know which student was which.

It also smelled like he was wearing cologne and he never smelled like that before.

“Let’s talk about the birth control,” he prompted, reminding her she was fucked. But Rey had done a little research on Sunday.

“The doctor at the clinic recommended it because it makes your...period...more regular,” Rey lied, hoping the topic would turn him off this line of inquiry.

He sighed and she couldn’t tell if he was disappointed that he’d stayed late for no reason—or if he knew she was lying. Father Luke raised his hand to what must have been a dimming switch because his side of the booth faded into darkness as she screamed internally. 

_He knows!_

He didn’t even ask her more questions or dive into ‘natural family planning’ or how artificial contraception was ‘intrinsically evil’, just sat quietly and all she could hear was his steady breathing.

Rey’s fingernails dug into her own palms, leaving little half moons. She licked her lips and stared at the bit of chapel carpet she could see under the curtain, a foot of light.

Rey wondered if Leia had told him. She _was_ his sister. Oh my God. She was such an idiot.

“It was just one time,” Rey said, quietly, feeling better already. Even though she was omitting Friday. She could explain Kylo Ren. She couldn’t mention Mr. Solo.

Father Luke shifted and she knew he wanted her to elaborate.

“He was...older. And I had just met him, but I liked him,” Rey started, reminding herself that mentioning the condom wasn’t going to put a priest at ease because anything but abstinence was wrong and having sex without a condom would have—ridiculously—been preferred by the church.

Father Luke was getting comfortable and Rey knew this was going to be a _long_ hour.

“I fibbed and told him I was 16 and I wasn’t going to, you know...I just wanted to, um, try oral,” Rey said, stopping when she heard Father Luke swallow, the sound magnified by the tight space. 

Ugh. She was making this 50-year-old virgin uncomfortable. He didn’t tell her that was enough though. Probably because she hadn’t gotten to the part about penetration.

Rey stared straight ahead at the red velvet curtain—which was starting to seem like a very brothel-y element to have in a church. “Then he put his hand on me, for a while. Down there. And after that, I couldn’t stop,” Rey said, truthfully. 

Father Luke was breathing louder and she was certainly shocking him with her behavior, but he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else what she said, not even her grandfather.

“Then. Um,” she tried to think of how to describe the last part. This was like pulling teeth. She wasn’t going to mention the condom or dirty talk or how big he was or anything, but she had to say something. “He just kind of...laid me on the floor? And we finished like that. Is that enough?”

It sounded like Father Luke was tapping his foot impatiently, but that was pretty much it, unless he wanted the gory details. How did adults confess to sex acts?!

“Keep going,” he said and Rey’s head turned to look at him. Because his voice sickened her and she knew what the thumping sound was.

_Run!_ Her brain said. But the penitent couldn’t leave until the priest dismissed them. 

_This is different!_ Her brain screeched. His thumping was getting louder and faster.

_Text Ben._ Her brain compromised.

Her bag was next to her so she didn’t have to lean down, but she covered the screen, lowering the brightness in settings, going to text…

**The Prince of Darkness: You never had one.**

She texted him anyway.

**R: Come to the chapel quick/ Please hurryu**

She saw mistakes before she hit send—and almost fixed them—but that was dumb.

“What else?” Father Luke said gruffly, not even hiding the fact that he was jerking off two feet away from her, his efforts creating a noise she could only describe as _squelching_.

“Um…” Rey said, her voice uneven as her chin quivered, squeezing her phone. “He-he um…” she had lost the ability to think. She could only _hear_.

_Hurry Ben._ But he had probably gone home already.

It didn’t matter anyway. Because Father Luke finished. A “mmm,” followed by a few more strokes and within a minute he was gone, leaving her gripping her phone like a weapon, worried he was going to pull back her curtain, but instead she heard the chapel door push and swing closed.

She cried, staring at the text that Ben never answered. Angry that fear and Father Luke’s noises had made her wet.

She inhaled sharply when Father Luke pushed back through the door and ripped open her curtain, but it was just Ben and he didn’t know what had happened. “Baby, baby, I’m here, don’t cry.” He just thought she wanted him and he kissed her like there was no tomorrow, digging his erection into her and she clawed at his zipper to get him out because he was there, he was just a little late.

Ben pushed her panties aside and slid his middle finger down her slit. “God fucking dammit. Did you touch yourself in here?” He asked, grinning, and she nodded, wiping her face. 

He wasn’t wrong, but that was last week.

Ben closed the curtain and lifted her to the rickety wall, the two of them taking up the whole space. He stroked himself with spit and slid into her, making a sexy, pained “uhfuck” into her neck.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her back rubbing up and down the wood with each thrust, wondering when he was going to talk in her ear or make sure she was okay like he usually did, but he was all noises and no words. 

But noises worked too as she closed her eyes and locked her ankles behind him. “Ugh. I’m going to hell,” she laughed. Actually laughed. As if 10 minutes ago hadn’t happened.

Ben finally spoke, getting close, his voice strained, his hands tightening on her ass. “When I die, half of me is going to heaven and half of me is going to hell,” he said, a thought previously conceived.

He came and the feel of his hot orgasm inside her was almost as good as having one herself. 

She didn’t open her eyes as he pulled out and set her down, gently on her feet, his come coating her panties.

_So I’ll find you no matter where I go,_ Rey thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for using the word "squelching".


	11. The kid has got a dark side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **He got murder in his eyes  
>  He wore his silence like a mask  
> Now he's making up for all the violence in his past  
> Took it from his father who never bothered to ask  
> What his son had on his mind  
> The kid has got a dark side  
> Best believe it, push too far you'll see**
> 
> Darkside by grandson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure other people have used this song before because it is sooo teen Ben, but I haven't seen it used and I had to do it! Finally!

Ben’s dad dropped him off at Seattle Sacred Heart that morning and _didn’t even ask_ why he was wearing a suit to school. Maybe his mother had told him about today’s guest of honor, but Ben suspected his dad had given up on caring. Because Ben was religious and his father thought it was ‘mumbo jumbo’. Well, now Ben was becoming his father. He knew God was a lie now. And he had _his_ 9mm in his book bag.

The other students snickered, seeing Ben in a suit with two black eyes and surgical tape over his nose. _That_ his dad had asked about, after his mom patched him up. He’d said he caught a baseball with his face. Ben didn’t even have P.E. anymore, but his dad didn’t keep up with that kind of thing. He’d told his mom they were playing while waiting for the bus. 

Sometimes guys threw a football around. But never with Ben.

He passed Savannah—standing with ‘the Leggy Brunettes’, as he called them—and her gaze followed him, her lips parting. His formerly-shy eyes had turned to bruised murder and _her_ blue eyes were asking. _What are you going to do?_

Wasn’t it obvious? He was going to meet the archbishop.

\--------------------------------------------------

It was a sunny day and Rey didn’t have to tell him her address this time. He remembered. She promised him Palpatine wouldn’t be home for hours. Like a kid with sneaking around on the brain. 

He could go again. He could always go again.

“Do you like Father Luke?” Rey asked, watching to make sure he was making all the right turns.

Ben didn’t really like him. But, “Yeah, he’s my uncle.” 

Rey bit at her thumbnail. 

“What? Do you think he’s suspicious?” Ben asked, pulling her hand out of her mouth. She had pretty fingernails.

“No,” she said. “He’s just annoying.” She wanted to say something else and Ben waited, but it never came and they were there.

\-------------------------------------------------

When fear threatened to change his mind, Ben closed his eyes and pictured Savannah’s blank face when the gun touched her cheek. How many times had Father Snoke stuck that thing in her face before yesterday? How many girls? How many men and how many times? And his rage would come flooding back in and that’s what he needed.

A note came for him at lunch and he didn’t have his book bag with him there. He ran to his locker and grabbed the gun. The hall was empty so he stuffed it in his pants and covered it with his suit jacket.

Outside of the office door, he tightened his skinny, black tie and turned the door knob—the right way this time—no knocking.

Father Snoke looked up, irritated that he hadn’t warned them, because Father Palpatine—he assumed—was sitting in the leather chair Ben had sat in yesterday. He was older than Father Snoke, with a wrinkled forehead and a smile that had no business being on his face. Like he was glad to see Ben had taken a beating.

Ben didn’t wait for his courage to wilt or Snoke’s desk drawer to open, he pulled out the gun and turned off the safety.

Now that smile was gone.

————————————————

“Do you want to come hang out for a little bit?” Rey asked, sweetly, and he turned off the car.

She checked the mail and he followed her over the manicured lawn, stepping stones, and into the house. Apparently her and her grandfather didn’t even lock the front door.

Because no one fucks with the archbishop.

———————————————

“Ben,” Father Snoke said, holding his hands up.

“You can stop with that bullshit,” Ben said. Hearing his name come from a man of power wasn’t going to work anymore.

“What can we do for you, young man?” Father Palpatine said, as if expecting Ben to have come prepared with a list of terms, rather than a hit list. 

Actually, that was a great idea, why should they go quickly? They should have to...do something.

Ben’s eyes landed on the school intercom, an old device from the seventies, like a phone with no receiver, sitting on Snoke’s desk. He only used it for morning announcements, now.

“Call Savannah to the office,” Ben said, pointing to the intercom system.

—————————————

Rey set the mail down on the living room couch and took Ben’s hand, leading him upstairs, warning him that she hadn’t made her bed, as if they hadn’t fucked on a dirty floor little more than a week ago.

The house had vaulted ceilings, like a church, and smelled a bit like old man. That inexplicable old person smell. Like Reeboks and talcum powder. 

Rey’s room faced the street with double windows and one of those balconies that wasn’t really a balcony. Her canopy bed somehow looked grown up, rather than childish. Like Marie Antoinette slept there.

She kicked her shoes off and pulled him into the room, because he was standing in the doorway, doing an inventory. Keyboard, sheet music, a retro chaise lounge, white dressers.

“What are you looking at?” She asked, kicking dirty clothes under the bed.

“Your room, baby,” he said, feeling like he knew her better, just from stepping inside.

“I love it when you call me that,” she said, sincerely, turning off the main light, letting the light peek through the window curtains.

She came back to him and he kneeled before her, kissing her stomach and sliding her panties down to her socks. She’d cleaned them off in the girl’s bathroom, but they were still damp and reeked of sex.

————————————————

Savannah stepped inside, immediately his accomplice, closing the door quickly and locking it. Muscle memory by now.

The Fathers were standing by the windows and Ben had both guns, Snoke’s in his pants because he didn’t know if it worked the same. They were silent, waiting for Ben’s commands. And that felt good.

“Get on your knees and bow down,” Ben told them. And Savannah smiled.

————————————-

Ben had to admit that he had a thing for pleated skirts and knee socks. They were clearly invented by a pervert. 

Rey took off her button up, neck scarf, and her scrap of a bra, leaving the skirt and socks because this was his twisted fantasy. Not because of what happened to him, but because he was a boy who went to a co-ed parochial school and stifled this whim for at least 18 years.

“Baby,” he whispered into her swollen cunt, before seeing how far his tongue could reach with her still standing. She tasted like cheap, pink, school hand soap.

“Ohh,” she whined, part pleasure and part impatience. She needed to be _filled_ and he was going to play with her, but fuck pleated skirts.

He spun her around and stood, walking her to the bed and she bent over the comforter while he unzipped and fondled her ass, each cheek easily encompassed by his hands.

“So I talked to Poe,” Ben said, feeling possessive, slipping into her tight, little pussy, just three inches—so easy from behind. “He said he kissed you and you shoved him off a rock.”

He gave her a few more inches for being a good girl and she let out a happy breath. Her whims were so simple.

———————————

“Beg,” Ben said, when the Fathers looked on begrudgingly from their knees. “Beg for forgiveness.” He didn’t even know his voice could sound like this. Disturbed, spitting, perfect.

He pointed at Father Snoke first, his eyes trained on the gun, as if he could see a bullet coming and dodge it. 

“Sav-,”

“Don’t say her name,” Ben snapped. They didn’t get to say her name.

“I’m so sorry. Forgive me,” he said, using his fake voice. 

The lunch bell rang.

Ben let his muscles tense, let his face screw up, painful and disgusted. “No. Like you mean it. Like you made her touch your micro dick and you don’t want me to sodomize you with this gun.” 

Snoke’s eyes flickered in embarrassment to Father Palpatine, but he looked down his nose at the floor. “I’m…”

“Okay, just repeat after me,” Ben said, teeth clenched, his belly full of lunch and hate and he was flying now, confident because Savannah was there and she looked impressed. 

“I’m a limp dick rapist prick.”

“I’m...a limp dick rapist prick.”

“I’m too lazy to jerk off so I rape little girls.”

“I’m too lazy to jerk off so I rape little girls.”

Ben was smiling with Savannah now. “Your turn, archbishop.”

“I’m a piece of human filth who gets off hurting children.”

“I’m a piece of human filth who gets off hurting children,” he repeated calmly.

“I don’t see tears,” Ben said, as if he was losing his mind, looking at Savannah for confirmation. She looked...like she wanted to fuck him on the desk.

Ben’s mouth tightened. “I don’t think you understand the delicate psychology behind what I’m doing,” Ben said, mimicking Snoke from yesterday. “If I don’t see some goddamn tears, how will I know you’ve _truly_ repented?”

And to his surprise, the Fathers _made themselves cry._

—————————————

“No one touches you but me,” Ben said, giving her three more inches when she nodded into the bed.

“And if anyone gives you shit, you tell me,” he said, one inch.

“Anyone?” She asked, pussy clenching around him and he gave her the last inch, because she sounded so sweet.

“Ah!” She cried, but he knew when to stop, he could feel when the pressure on his tip was too much. She was the perfect size.

He watched his cock slide out wet and disappear back into her, growing red and fat with blood, veins bulging, his body grateful for the friction.

“Anyone,” he said, wondering who she thought was untouchable. Which teacher was being a zealot or if her grandfather was a psycho with his own family. If anyone was going to be untouchable, it was going to be Rey, the embodiment of everything pure and beautiful that he was fighting to save.

—————————————

Ben had Father Snoke hail each and every Lost Girl, one at a time to his office. Savannah guarded the door and Ben felt like his acting was getting better and better. Maybe he wasn’t acting though. Maybe he _had_ become unhinged.

It was almost 3 o’clock and the final bell was going to ring soon, but they had gotten them all, Snoke said. Even David, who said he’d been brought to the office once for a cop. And once for Father Palpatine, right before Christmas break.

That was Ben’s fault. They all were. Well, most of them. 10/15 were reported by him. Father Snoke collected the traumatized and abused. And anyone with something embarrassing enough to blackmail them with. 

Ben would have killed the Fathers. He really would. But Savannah was giving him _that_ look. And he couldn’t do the things he wanted if he was in prison.

He made them repeat after him. Made them promise today was the last day they’d ever set foot in a school again. Told them if they came after him, or any of the others, he’d make sure whoever was left took them down, told the truth, and no amount of dirty cops could silence 16 kids with the same story. And that was just the students still at school. Who knew how long they had been doing this.

He walked the Fathers off the school grounds, his father's gun in hand, hidden in Snoke’s empty trash bag. The halls were full and no one seemed to notice them at all. When their cars were gone, Savannah turned and kissed him, his eyebrows raising.

Apparently she liked his dark side.

They hooked up—his first time—in her hot car. But the high was wearing off and he walked alone back into the school, found Father Luke and told him everything. How Father Snoke used him for intel and collected the Lost Girls for his own needs and—probably—farmed them out to cops to protect his back. How Father Palpatine shielded him, because he was a kindred pedophile too.

And Father Luke hugged him, and thanked him for telling him.

But that wasn’t enough to combat the guilt, ingrained now, and he didn’t go home that night, just sat in the stadium, like a gargoyle, protecting his castle.

He thought about turning his father’s gun on himself. He wasn’t a victim and it would bring the Lost Girls relief to know their betrayer was gone. But as the sun came up, he pulled out a cigarette and tried to relax. If he died, they might come back.

And this was his school now.


	12. You're no saint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I'm sorry, but your story isn't adding up  
>  Think your religion is a lie to keep my mouth shut  
> So I won't testify to crime you're keeping score of  
> Why don't you throw me to the wolves I thought you were one?  
> You were standing there like an angry god  
> Counting out my sins just to cross them off  
> You're not so innocent  
> You're fooling Heaven's gates  
> So you won't have to change  
> You're no saint, you're no saint**
> 
> Saints by Echos

Rey skipped school Tuesday, burrowing into her apply-named comforter. Her grandfather dug around for the thermometer before work, but she had hidden it, not confident she could get away with the perfect running-under-hot-water temperature trick.

She went back to sleep after he left, recovering from a stressful string of days with little down time. Even though that wasn’t the reason she was skipping. 

What was she going to do about Father Luke? She couldn’t tell Ben because they were _related_. She couldn’t tell Nurse Leia because she was his sister. Wait. Did that make Nurse Leia Ben’s mother? Jesus. She couldn’t tell her grandfather because he would find out about the sex. 

**The Prince of Darkness: Where are you?**

Wow, it was already 1pm. It felt weird telling her teacher this, but, he wasn’t supposed to have sex with her and he was doing that, so.

**R: Playing hooky. Tired.**

**The Prince of Darkness: You were supposed to present Macbeth today. I’ll move you and Poe to tomorrow.**

Ugh. Rey didn’t want to go in tomorrow either. Wednesday was a ‘confession day’.

**R: Can you move us to Friday?**

**The Prince of Darkness: Christ. How tired are you?**

She should have said she was sick.

**R: Not too tired for you to come by after school.**

**The Prince of Darkness: Sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.**

But Rey didn’t go in Wednesday either. And when Thursday morning rolled around and her grandfather was getting calls from the school, he said he was going to take her to the doctor. So she faked a miraculous recovery and showered for the first time that week.

At lunch, Ben smiled when he saw her from across the cafeteria, before sitting down at the staff table. Rey really loved school. 

But Father Luke was fucking everything up. She caught a glimpse of him before English, but ducked into Ben’s class before he saw her. Was this how life was going to be for the next two years?

Ben came in and sat at his desk, fiddling in his lap.

**The Prince of Darkness: Feeling up for presenting today?**

She smiled and flashed him a thumbs up. And Poe saw. Shit.

“Are you _texting_ Mr. Solo?” He laughed, then he read her fear. Guilty. Ass. Fear.

“He called to check on me when I was out sick,” she lied. 

“Ohh,” Poe said, but he didn’t look convinced. Probably because Ben was watching the two of them looking just as scared as she was.

“Ready to present today?” Rey asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I was ready Tuesday,” he said, seemingly happy just to have her initiating conversations again.

Rey was acting out her sleepwalking Lady Macbeth when Kaydel knocked on the classroom door. “Why should we be scared, when no one can lay the guilt upon us?” 

Ben opened the door and Rey stopped and waited. 

Kaydel handed him a note and he glanced at Rey. Fuck. It was for her. But he let her finish presenting, distracted and cotton-mouthed now. “But who would have thought the old man…”

Rey walked to Father Luke’s office as if pulled by an invisible rope. Respect for authority. The note didn’t say anything except that she should come. For all she knew, he was going to apologize. She didn’t really believe that. And she started crying outside of his door, seeing his figure moving around inside. The bell rang and she knew she needed to hurry and he could probably see her standing there, but she was deciding. 

She could leave now and call her grandfather and confess that she’d had sex with Kylo Ren and he’d _never_ let her out of his sight and she’d _never_ be able to sneak Ben into her room again or take a late night drive over to Lake Washington.

“Rey, are you okay?” Poe said behind her. Oh, it was his front office time.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Father Luke,” she said, wiping her nose.

“I swear, it wasn’t me who told him about...you know,” he said, as if to comfort her. _Why would Poe ever tell Father Luke something like that anyway?_

“No, I told him,” Rey said. “Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you come in with me?” She asked, and Poe knew he wasn’t invited, but he did it anyway. Maybe she was too cold to Poe. He was a good friend.

Father Luke was scratching his light brown beard, looking up from his worn copy of The Bible. The Bible. As if he sat around reading The Bible all day.

“Got something for me, Poe?” He asked, searching Poe’s hands for paperwork or something.

“Uhh,” Poe said, looking at Rey. He didn’t know why she needed him there so badly but she begged him with her eyes and he tried at least. “Just wanted to see if you needed me to get started on anything?”

“No need to show off, Poe. I’m sure Rey knows by now you’re my office assistant,” Luke said, shortly.

“I wasn’t-” Poe started but Luke’s eyebrows knitted. “I’ll just be right outside,” he said, like an ally. 

“You’ve missed some school,” Father Luke said, walking around and closing the door Poe had left wide open. 

Rey subconsciously shrunk across the room.

Father Luke continued in his business-like tone. “You’re disappointing me Rey. You’re sleeping around like a whore. You’re neglecting your school work,” he pulled out a chair for her and motioned for her to sit so he could insult her some more. “I can’t believe _this_ behavior from the archbishop’s granddaughter.”

She sat and Father Luke stayed behind the chair, his hands gripping the backrest as he talked about the reputation of the school and a woman’s reputation and how she wouldn’t be able to get a husband if she was an STD-ridden slut. His language grew more vicious and Rey stared at The Bible on his desk, just praying he’d finish soon and let her go because she hated crying in front of people, especially adults.

His hands moved down and she hadn’t seen them coming but he was rubbing her right breast and holding her shoulder still with his left. Her brain screamed and screamed. 

_They were in his office! Poe was right outside! Ben was just down the hall!_

She couldn’t move, frozen in place and Father Luke liked that she didn’t fight back, his language becoming gentler, her reward.

“I remember when you used to be such a good example, Rey. You had perfect attendance and you didn’t smoke behind the school. What happened? You can tell me,” he said, his voice almost inaudibly quiet.

When it seemed it couldn’t get worse, his hand raised up and went _into_ her shirt, touching bare breast now, _playing_ with her. She felt stiff, like she wasn’t even breathing.

“Father? Do you want me to get you anything from the vending machine?” Poe said, busting in the door and Father Luke’s hand ripped out of her shirt. He kept his back to the door and went to sit at his desk. Because he had an erection.

“No, Poe. If I want anything I’ll ask,” he said, putting on a pair of glasses to make himself look important and scholarly. Rey wanted to knock them off his face. But this was her chance.

“Thank you, Father,” Rey said, wetly, as if he had dismissed her, and ran out the door Poe was holding open for her.

Poe followed her down the hall. She was going to tell Ben. But she couldn’t do that if Poe was there.

“You need a hall pass!” Poe said, and she turned slightly to accept it, like a relay race. 

“What happened?” He asked, standing in the middle of the hall as she ran to the English room.

Rey knocked because Ben had a class, but they were still joking around and getting situated. He came out into the hall, his face telling her she shouldn’t be talking to him during school, in front of everyone. And the hall was an echo chamber. And she could have just texted him.

“What? You okay, baby?” He whispered, and God, everything was right in the world. His big hands stuck halfway in his pockets and his panty-dropping smile.

“I’m. I’m fine. Just. Going to go home early,” she said, stupidly. But he could tell something was _very wrong_ when she buttoned up her shirt where the top three buttons had come undone.

He watched her shaky fingers, like he wanted to touch her but couldn’t. He looked around, seeing Poe still standing in the hall, where she had just come from, glaring at Ben, Rey’s chosen rescuer. Ben pulled his glasses off and handed them to her, just enough warning for her to register his thinking.

“Oh fuck! No! It wasn’t Poe!” Rey said, grabbing him by the arm, because his big hands had turned to fists.

“Who then?” He asked, louder than he should have been, especially with Poe lingering around like Ben’s understudy.

_Ben would fix everything._ He was 200lbs of pure muscle and pent-up screamo energy. She knew his secrets and now she had to tell him hers. She stood on her tiptoes and cupped her hand to his ear as he hunched.

“It's Father Luke.”


	13. You tried to put a fire out but you used gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **So you tried to put a fire out  
>  But you used gasoline  
> And when the congregation gathered 'round  
> You're screaming, "It wasn't me!"  
> So there's a sickness that is going 'round  
> But no one's got a vaccine  
> I think it drowned in holy water  
> I think it's time we all come clean**
> 
> Gasoline by Brand New

Ben didn’t know where the idea came from but damn if his brain wasn’t a twisted son of a bitch when he was riled.

Poe was watching, but it didn’t matter with the shitstorm that was brewing, churning, clawing behind Ben’s stony expression. He was going back to prison, beyond a shadow of a doubt. It felt like he could see a train coming and he was jumping in front of it.

So he kissed Rey—right there in the hall—a promise that he’d destroy the world if it meant she’d sleep better at night. In her little canopy bed, tucked in, a Shakespeare tragedy under one arm. 

The kiss worried her more than comforted her. Everyone knows what a goodbye kiss feels like.

He pushed through the side door, outside. Gardener’s shed. Mower. Red 5 gallon gas can. Half full. That’s all he’d need. 

Rey was following, talking, he couldn’t tell what she was saying, screaming, shouting, scared as hell.

“Give me your lighter,” Ben said, reaching into her skirt pocket when she shook her head ‘no’. It was one of those pink, plastic gas station lighters. But that would work.

He came back inside, telling Rey to stay out, but she was following and pulling on him, her protests almost cute because she was trying so hard. Students were coming out of the classrooms to investigate but he needed to make sure they left. And the teachers stayed the fuck out of his way.

“What are you doing, Mr. Solo?!” Poe said, watching Ben lift the protective case and trigger the fire alarm. Poe had more guts than all the staff combined. But, he was Teenage Ben, so that made sense.

The harsh siren reminded him of the prison cell unlock system.

——————————————

  
  


“Ben!” His father shouted. 

Ah man, he knew his dad brought his car to this garage, he just didn’t think he’d be here often enough to run into him. 

“You were gone for _months,_ the whole summer break,” his father said, looking him over. 

He knew he’d lost weight. Cocaine will do that.

“Where did you go? Your mother was worried sick.”

_I was on tour._

“I called her almost every week,” Ben said, though he was shit-faced half the time.

His dad shrugged, always giving up on him, more obsessed with his 66’ Camaro, easier to fix that a human being.

“And where did you get the money to buy that house?” He said, as if Ben was up to something illegal. 

Ben didn’t care anymore. He didn’t need his father to be proud of him, he’d stopped trying for that a long time ago. 

“Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s killing your mother, but I’m sure you think you can just confess your sins and wipe your slate clean, because _God_ will forgive you,” he said, oblivious as always to _who_ Ben was.

His dad was just defending his mother. He knew that. Later. When he’d thought about it. But in the moment. 

Irascible.

He punched him in the gut as hard as he could. Because he didn’t believe in God and he was more _his_ son than his mother’s and he’d never know that and he’d never love him. Especially if he knew what Ben had done to those girls in high school in the name of religion.

His dad wouldn’t have pressed charges. But there was an off duty cop nearby. And he’d just assaulted a middle-aged man.

**———————————————**

Father Luke came running out of the front office but Ben grabbed him with one arm—a choke hold—and drug him back inside. This office was becoming a tradition. Every ten years he had to scare the shit out of a priest or two.

Ben flung him to the floor, his white tab collar falling out, almost poetically.

Rey and Poe watched from the doorway as he gave Father Luke a thorough douse, getting his beard real good. Ben had always liked the smell of gasoline. Something nostalgic about it. Probably his father.

He pulled his brain back into the equation long enough to recall some hypocritical sermon of Father Luke’s. Something from his favorite. Revelations.

“But as for the cowardly, the detestable, the sexually immoral, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire,” Ben said, holding the lighter up, just something to put the fear of God in him.

God being Ben.

And fuck, he _was_ terrified. His normal composure had turned into scrambling pleas, his eyes on the lighter, reminding him of Father Snoke’s eyes on his dad’s gun.

Rey screamed and he heard it that time but he hushed her. He wasn’t going to light the lighter. He just needed it to get his point across and he couldn’t use a gun. Because Father Luke knew that story already. Didn’t he. Ben had told him exactly how to be a predator and get away with it.

But she wasn’t yelling at him, she was yelling at Poe, standing behind Father Luke’s desk, holding a gun in his hand that was probably Father Luke’s. 

Of course. 

Poe _was_ just like Ben. He was Father Luke’s little dog. He kind of liked him anyway.

“Shoot him!” Father Luke shouted, crawling in a puddle of his own piss and gas.

Poe fired two rounds straight to Ben’s chest, before Rey ran between them. _Oh fuck. Close range. That’s it then._ It felt like hot pokers that wouldn’t quit and his jaw clenched so tight his teeth were probably going to crack.

Ben’s knees hit first, then the rest of him and he felt Poe prying the lighter out of his hand.

_Stupid little shit. Could have ignited the fuel with that gun._

Rey flipped him all the way on his back and pressed on his chest, as if her hand could magically heal him. Blood mixed with gas and light mixed with darkness. Until it was all just fucking darkness.

—————————————

Ben’s eyes opened in the ambulance. So he wasn’t dead yet. There were drugs in his system but not enough to dull the pain.

He was glad she was there, his mother, even though she looked like she felt in the way. More used to Band-Aids than triage.

“ _Ben!_ ” She said, alerting the EMTs that he was conscious. For the moment.

“He’s still critical,” a man said. 

He’d gotten her hopes up. He wasn’t going to live. His blood was the new varnish that coated the front office floor.

“Keep the mask on,” one said to his mother, because she was fidgeting with it, wiping her cheeks. Where was the bedside manner? His mother already looked like a nervous wreck. 

Maybe Father Luke had passed him off as a villain and they were only keeping him alive because they had to.

His mother looked like she was trying to think of something to say in case these were their last few minutes together. He wished he could talk. But there was an oxygen cup over his mouth and nose. And one of his lungs was dead in the water.

“Rey told me what Luke did. And I told your father what you did. He said that was the most badass thing he’d ever heard.”

Ben laughed sadly. He tasted blood and the EMTs pushed his mother back, time out for making him laugh while his chest was open and seeping into the bandages. 

He heard the memory of a scream and wished he’d kissed Rey for longer, when he had a strong heartbeat and the future could go a million different ways and the only thing that was keeping his lips from hers was what people would think, the risk of losing a job he never really wanted, just the means to an end to stand guard. 

He held his mother’s hand, glad he’d stuck around and went into education. Because she was next in line for the head of the school and word would get out and the kids would be safe with her. There was only one side to his mother.

He squeezed her hand, passing the torch.


	14. No revival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **No revival but I tried to  
>  You never knew if you could feel the way that I do  
> No revival but I tried to  
> You never knew if you could feel the way that I do  
> No revival  
> No revival  
> No revival  
> No revival**
> 
> Revival by Echos

Paige pointed at the blue Subaru Forester when Mrs. Tico pulled up. Rose helped Rey stand and they grabbed their things, saying bye to Kaydel, Poe, and Finn, before running and piling in. She had the heat on and it was warm and welcome.

Rose was talking to her mom in the front seat, unwinding her scarf, while Paige was texting Rey in the back. 

**Paige: Priest Killer show tonight if you want to sneak out.**

**R: Nah. Not the same without the lead singer.**

Paige and Poe were the only ones who knew everything. That Mr. Solo was Kylo Ren and the guitar Nurse Leia had given her was once his. 

Rey changed her mind.

**R: We can go. It’s still his lyrics.**

Mrs. Tico was watching them in the rear view mirror. “Vegan taco night?”

\--------------------------

  
  


They thought Rose was too young for another metal show, so they waited until she was asleep and went out the window in Rey’s room. It was right next to a bush and they always got spiderwebs on them, but it was winter now and the only thing they had to worry about was the long, dark walk to Highline Bar in Cap Hill. If they drove they couldn’t drink while they walked.

Paige filled the silence talking about how the band had changed. “Ushar is the lead singer now, used to be the backup vocalist. His real name is David Wexley and he actually went to Seattle Sacred Heart around the same time as Mr. Solo.”

It had been six months since Ben died at the hospital. And three months since the Ticos adopted her. There was a big investigation after Ben’s death and somehow her grandfather was involved and he had killed himself at the archdiocese office. Even though that meant he couldn’t go to heaven. But Rey didn’t really believe in an afterlife, as much as she wished it to be real.

She took a swig from her flask. Vodka. The best way to warm up in a Washington drizzle.

When they got to the bar, they had to climb the dumpster—which smelled like Rainier—to reach the fire escape ladder, then it was just two flights to the roof and there was always a little wooden wedge jammed under the door to the inside. Judging by the ashtrays, the staff came up to smoke and kept it wedged so they didn’t lock themselves out.

The balcony area was really for the band members to watch without being harassed by fans, so they had to sneak down the stairs quick and duck under the rope with a sign that read ‘Staff Only’. 

Once they were in the deafening throng, no one seemed to notice that they were there—and that they didn’t have a stamp on their hands.

Paige took a sip of her flask, whiskey, even though her cheeks were already red. But maybe that was from the walk. They stayed near the back wall because the mosh pit was already in full swing.

Rey noticed there was an empty spot on stage, as if the band was waiting for Kylo Ren to come out at any moment. She didn’t think it was going to be like this. Painful. 

Ben would still be alive if she’d just toughed it out. But she didn’t see him as mortal. Didn’t know he could die like that. And after the investigation into Father Luke—and Rey and Kaydel and the other three girl’s testimonies—Poe tried to take all her blame. But it was hers.

Rey took one more swig and stepped into the pit, almost toppled immediately and Paige was calling her back, but she planted her feet and threw a shoulder into a guy with a full tattoo sleeve. He laughed and pushed her back—at half power—but she ran into someone else and someone else, turning blows into munition for the next push, because that’s how life was. Just a series of unpredictable motions that sometimes worked out in your favor and sometimes knocked you down. 

She hadn’t gotten a chance to think about Ben’s death much. They took him away and she was covered in his blood and Nurse Leia said she’d done a good job. But his face was really white and she didn’t get to say goodbye or thank you. 

She _did_ get a chance to talk to the cops though. Because she had been there when it happened. And she went ahead and told them about Father Luke, because Nurse Leia told her to if she was up for it.

Someone hit Rey hard in the chest and she went down again. The floor was sticky and covered in dead plastic cups, but she got back up and gave him her response, a bony elbow to the hip.

The band started a new song and the pit calmed. It had church organs and she looked up at their mock stained glass backdrop. She hadn’t set foot in a chapel since the beginning of the school year. Since the day Ben came to find her in the confessional and called her ‘baby’.

She missed his voice. All she had that _really_ sounded like Ben was their song. She’d never get a chance to ask him what he’d written that about, because she listened to it over and over and it felt more about her than it did about him. Like he’d written it from the future.

Pushing and punching, she fought for her place in the pit, and her head spun with all of the bodies and sound, too much of everything and not enough of anything she went there for. She didn’t know what the words meant and she was going to leave with nothing but bruises.

A mosher knocked her to the floor again and this time she stayed down. And screamed. The bass was so loud she couldn’t even hear herself. But if it were words, she’d cry that Ben was special and talented and it wasn’t fair that she had to live a hundred years and she only got two fucking weeks with him! He was strong and brave in all the ways that she wasn’t. He was weak in all the ways that she was. She wanted to lay down and die in the filth and chaos because it didn’t matter if someone broke her neck, whichever afterlife she got, heaven or hell, Ben said he’d be there.

One of the bouncers picked her up, setting her roughly back on her feet. She jerked her arm out of his grasp, looking straight up at the lights as if asking them to turn to lightning and strike her down. Then she screamed his name because no one could hear it but her, rattling in her head, tearing at her throat. 

The opposite of prayer: a quiet, humble ask. She was loud and demanding. Because she was just getting started and her life was already ruined and she deserved better than what God had given her. 

Two bloody hands and no way to keep him from going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Highline Bar is a vegan metal bar in Cap Hill. 
> 
> 2\. shhh with your theories!!
> 
> 3\. Only 2 more chaptersssss


	15. Heaven it feels like you don't exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Heaven it feels like you don't exist  
>  Fucking with ya for fun  
> I am no  
> I am no passion addicted  
> Do you feel happy now, happy now  
> Hope you are dear  
> Somewhere far from  
> Where I am looking now**
> 
> Dead by 228k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1p2aehfLeVPIYcBgonZDIs?si=jv8uiB1AQy61x7G4msGkNg)
> 
> This soooong. I'm in love with it. Gah! I wish this was a movie so I could WATCH this scene.
> 
> Sorry about the shorter chapters. I don't make them long if I get what's in my head across in half the words.

People were trampling Rey, stepping on her hands and jumping over her. And she didn’t even seem to care. She was crying!

He had to do it.

Ben ran forward and lifted Rey off the ground, waiting for her to find her footing. She jerked her arm away, not looking at him, and her mouth opened in a scream, shouting to the heavens, cursing at the lights. 

Very Shakespearean. 

He could tell her. She was inches away from him, her back to his chest. He could run his hands down her shoulders and she’d turn and see him and whatever was bothering her he’d deal with it. 

Was she screaming ‘Ben’? 

His face screwed up, feeling her pain because it was his own. He raised his hands, holding them right next to her arms, so close to the bare skin where her T-shirt sleeves ended. All he’d have to do was touch her and she’d feel better.

But he couldn’t and he lowered his hands.

Shrinking into the crowd, Ben made his way back to the ‘staff only’ balcony where he’d been watching David and the others, before Rey slipped into the bar--from the god damn roof he’d told the manager to lock the last time they’d performed.

_What was she doing here?_ She had a good life now with the Ticos.

Pulling his hoodie strings tighter, he leaned on the railing to find her again. She was hugging Paige on the wall, crying into her shoulder. _He_ wanted to hold her and tell her he was alive.

But. Witness protection was no joke and this investigation had to go back through fifteen years of priests and dirty cops, all who would be very happy to put Ben in the ground.

It took every ounce of self control he had to watch Rey step into the pit and get smashed around like a pinball, not because he minded her moshing--it’s good to let it out--but because it would be so exciting to see her face if he’d let her smash into _him_ and realize. Instead, he clung to the shadows and circled, watching her unravel and fight in the style of drama only teenagers could harbor. Everything intense, because it was their first time experiencing this or that emotion.

But, as of now, she was safe. No one knew they were close. No one would use her to drive Ben out of hiding. The only people that knew what was going on were his parents and David, also a witness. He was keeping an eye on David tonight because he refused to go into hiding. And his mother was keeping an eye on Rey.

She said Rey wasn’t doing her best, what with his death and the death of her grandfather, so he’d told her to give her his guitar, because that’s what made him feel better. His mom said she loved it.

It was a risk, coming to Highline tonight. But no one seemed to recognize him and he had a pass from David. Kylo Ren’s physicality was so far from where Ben was now. After spending weeks in surgery and recovery and physical therapy. He was skinnier and he had grown a goatee, a disguise he could manage out of pure laziness.

He missed Rey. Her hair was longer and she looked older already. Sometimes he sat in his car in the school parking lot and watched her hang out with her friends. They didn't smoke anymore. His mother had banned lighters on school property.

Rey and Paige started sneaking back up the stairs and he slid further away down the rail. The security here really was abysmal. 

He could follow her to the roof and kiss her under the stars!

_Fuck. Stop._

He’d do what he _should_ have done from the start. If he was the man he wanted to be. He’d wait. Wait til she was older, when she was more mature and ready. Then he could hold her and neither of them would feel alone. 

If she still wanted him then. Another risk he’d have to take. 

But he had years to figure out how to make it good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious if anyone caught on that I did an overlap here? Bc no one has mentioned it in comments so far. (That Ben was the 'bouncer' that picked Rey up at the end of the last chapter) I don't know why I love this moment so much. It's prob the song.


	16. One day you'll be here to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I'm watching you go  
>  No matter how many times  
> You fly away  
> I will remember  
> Each and every day  
> No matter how many times  
> You fly away  
> I know  
> One day you'll be here to stay with me  
> Stay with me**
> 
> Fly Away Together (feat. LUNA MAY) by GANZ, Luna May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet

Rey had to ask for directions. Twice. But she found the right building eventually, a giant greystone she had passed ten minutes ago, right in front of her dorm.

She was super late. Which was not a great first impression to make with her new professor. She read her class schedule to remember his name. A Mr. Lear. Sounded like ‘leer’, like he was definitely going to notice when she opened his door. While he’s in there writing on the chalkboard, already talking.

She spotted another door up the ramped hallway that looked like it would deposit her in the back of the class, rather than the front. Maybe she could slip in while his back was to the room.

Slowly she turned the knob, stepped inside, and pulled the door behind her, sitting in the first available chair of the amphitheater-style classroom.

“Nice of you to join us. Class started twenty minutes ago,” he said, sardonically, still writing on the blackboard with his back to her.

_ Well, fuck. _

“Sorry, couldn’t find it,” she said, flushing when fifty students turned around to look at the perpetrator.

The professor continued writing out his chosen Macbeth quote. “Perhaps you can tell me who wrote this line?” He asked, putting her on the spot and turning around to _smirk_.

“Sh-,” was as far as she got. 

Like a hush. 

Like a secret.

  
  
  
The love that follows us sometimes is our trouble, which still we thank as love.  -William Shakespeare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments! 
> 
> You really kept me motivated to get this out fast while I was channeling my dark side. 
> 
> Check out my other work, a couple stories just got released this week that were anonymous writers exchanges and you may have even read one and didn’t know it was mine!


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